A Wedding, Crashed and Burned
by FerryBerry
Summary: S3. Newlyweds Blaine and Kurt - and those they love the most - underestimate how unwelcoming Lima, Ohio can be when their reception is ruined - by armed men. And Quinn is the only one keeping her cool. Character deaths.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to Glee writers and creators.

**Prologue**

"All right, gentlemen. Here we go."

A staccato burst of shots rang out and echoed off the walls of the open hotel reception room; screams instantly followed. The previously booming stereo's music cut off sharply, partly thanks to a few bullets fired in the speakers' direction. The formally-dressed guests dove to the floor, underneath tables, looking for all the world like penguins and flowers hitting the ground simultaneously. The men were quick to pick them up and shove them against the walls on their way to guarding the exits, keeping guests in check with pointedly aimed guns.

"Everybody against the walls in line, and stay there!"

One woman squealed as Raphael dragged her from beneath a white table cloth, digging nails into the carpet to no avail. Her back hit the wall and she went quiet. And soon a general silence followed, guests against nearly all four walls exchanging terrified glances, watching the men and their guns. Gabriel smiled to himself.

He heard a whisper from his left, a short Latina girl in a red number. "This is crazy."

One of her blonde companions nudged her with a sharp elbow. Very prudent.

"Now that I have your attention, we'll be collecting cell phones, iPads, all your technology, please."

The men went digging through tuxedo pockets and purses, yanking out cell phones from their hidden places, while guests between checks scurried to get their devices out, to throw them on the floor where they would be collected and thrown unceremoniously out the door through which they'd come. One mohawked boy struggled against Michael. Gabriel marched over, gun pointed.

"Excuse me, how badly are you addicted to Angry Birds?"

The mohawk glowered, looked at the gun, and threw the cell phone at Michael's head. It hit him in the face. He stayed collected, picked it up, and walked away. Gabriel smiled.

"Are you crazy, or just stupid?"

The Latina girl again, louder this time, down the row to the mohawk.

"Be _quiet_," her blonde friend hissed this time.

Gabriel walked back to the Latina, to get a better look. "I can see you're going to be trouble."

"Just rob us and get it over with," she scoffed.

"Santana."

He smiled. "I apologize for the inconvenience, darling, but I'm afraid this isn't a robbery."

The men had brought in the lobby phone, set it on the table nearest the double doors. He picked it up to see that it had a signal and promptly slammed it down.

"The rest of the phones are all turned off."

"Good."

"Who the hell are you people?"

This time the voice was masculine, from an older bald man standing next to a woman his age and two boys in tuxedos, holding onto each other. His face was flushed with anger.

"I'm sorry, we've forgotten to introduce ourselves, how inconsiderate. Well, let me rectify the mistake. We are your salvation. You see, you all have come here despite warning after warning, to celebrate an unlawful, unholy union. And we have come here to save you. Not all of you, of course, because some of you are simply, well, unsalvageable. But save some of you, we will, and we do so in the service of God. After tonight, some of you may yet meet Him. However, first we'd like to congratulate the happy couple and, of course, offer a wedding gift, so."

The two boys held each other even tighter and Gabriel fired a shot. The taller and paler of the two yelped and screams echoed through the hall as he dropped to the floor. The other boy fell to his knees next to him, shouting.

"KURT!"

It came from more than one mouth. The bald man and his companion crowded around, along with a short brunette girl, the four of them collapsing around the boy who'd gone even paler in seconds. A very tall boy lunged for Gabriel, but Raphael and Aker held him back. A few others started, but the many other guns kept them still.

The other groom wailed and grasped his own hair and then Kurt's face and then screeched at Gabriel.

"What the fuck, _whatthefuck_?!"

"Why?" the brunette girl added tearfully, holding onto Kurt's wrist. "I thought you said you were going to save us! You didn't give him a chance! Why?!"

"Oh, did I not explain the wedding gift? See, on your happy day, you get to prove how much you love your beloved. And _you_ get to prove it by standing by him while you watch him die."

The boy didn't seem to hear. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…"

"God, he's bleeding bad, Carole, give me your scarf, we'll put pressure on the wound, you shot my _son_, you son of a bitch!"

"Perhaps you should have been a better father. Get the other three up."

"No, no!"

Carole, the bald man, and the brunette girl were shoved back into place despite protests. The boy remained on the floor with Kurt, holding the fire lily orange scarf against his bleeding stomach, and it soaked through with deep crimson.

Gabriel turned away and fired three times, bringing gasps and screams again as eyes leapt back to him from the boys crumpled on the floor.

"Now that you know I mean business, we have a long night ahead of us and we're going to start with some little games. The first will determine who here has a shot, pardon the pun, of being pardoned for your sins. So, we'll walk around and ask a question. If you get it right, you, and the person standing directly to your right, gets to live to play another game. If not, you both go bye-bye and the next person plays a turn, until we get to someone who can answer correctly. Any questions?"

"Has it occurred to you that if there's a bunch of dead or dying people in the room, everyone left is going to freak out?"

It was the same blonde girl who had scolded Santana. She raised her chin as Gabriel turned about.

"Very astute, darling, you get ten points." He turned to the men. "Michael, Daniel, drag the bodies out to the lobby. It'll be a nice gift for the police later."

"You sick bastard," the mohawk growled.

"You'll realize you are the one who's sick later on. Should you make it through the night. Very well, are we all ready to play? Let's start with you." He pointed to a guest just right of Carole, and the woman shook.

Raphael and Aker stepped up and took aim at her and the man next to her.

"Leviticus 18:22. What does it read?"

The woman quaked. She looked up at her man and he shook his head, pale.

Gabriel looked at his watch. "Tick tock."

"Is...is that the one...about, it's about Eve, right? I - "

They both dropped to the floor. Lesser screams followed and Michael and Daniel dragged the two away.

Gabriel smiled as he stepped up to the next pair. "Your turn."

It went on like that. Leviticus 18:22. They didn't know. They knew once, they were just nervous. Or they never knew. Never picked up the Bible. Got close, but didn't remember all the way. The bodies piled up in the lobby, and the sobs grew in the reception hall. There were a few attempts to stop it. Santana, the bald man, the very tall boy, a blond boy, and the mohawk. He rose twice, and Ariel knocked him out with the butt of his rifle. They were all quieter after that.

There would only be eighteen guests left, not including the groom and groom, by the time they finally reached a correct answer.

Gabriel stared the hazel-eyed blonde in the eye. She stared right back.

"Leviticus 18:22."

Her jaw tightened. "'You shall not lie with a man, as with a woman. It is an abomination.' King James Version."

Gabriel smiled. He looked now to the shine of her necklace, leading down to a cross. He lifted it from the periwinkle fabric of her dress and Santana shifted angrily beside them. He jerked the necklace off the blonde's neck and dangled the cross in front of her nose.

"We'll see if you deserve this back later on."

"This is the Lima Police. We have the building surrounded."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

At the sound of the bullhorn from outside, the leader of the masked men took his attention away from Quinn, stuffing her necklace into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. Despite her best attempts to contain it, a breath whooshed out of her chest, and she barely kept from rubbing over her racing heart. She knew the passage, of course; she'd heard it many times, but other guests before her had come close and their mistakes got them and the person next to them - sometimes a date, a husband, a wife, a friend, and sometimes perhaps a complete stranger - shot.

She could feel Santana relaxing next to her, too, and Brittany let out a tearful sigh of relief.

"It's about time the police got here," Santana muttered between them.

Quinn glanced over to Kurt and Blaine, to their spot by the wall once filled with whimpering and moans of pain. Now Kurt was silent, and a closer look found that his eyes were shut, but his chest rose and fell minutely. He must've passed out from the pain, or the blood loss, or both. Blaine rocked next to him, holding that scarf down on his new husband's stomach with white knuckles. Mr. and Mrs. Hummel, Finn, and Rachel - they weren't in much better shape nearby, all of them pale, watching. Rachel's tears flooded down her cheeks silently now.

She had asked Kurt and Blaine, Quinn knew, multiple times not to have the wedding. Not in Lima, Ohio, anyway, where they had already faced such persecution, and as soon as their wedding announcement appeared in the local newspaper, set the day after their high school graduation, the death threats started pouring in. There was even one public protest outside City Hall.

But no matter how Rachel, Finn - everyone - tried to sway them, Kurt would not be moved. The idea of the marriage hadn't seemed so urgent before, he claimed. Blaine had proposed shortly after Finn did so with Rachel, and then their wedding was disrupted by Quinn's untimely accident. It encouraged Kurt and Blaine further, because accidents happened and one could die any time, so they wanted to marry all the more. And when the threats came in, Kurt said it was more important than ever that they marry. In Lima. That they not back down. Blaine had more doubts, but he went along with it.

Those who had still been brave enough to attend the wedding, even after Kurt and Blaine were kind enough to send warnings via social media to their guests, were rewarded with this. Gunmen.

"They'll be calling soon, I'm sure," the leader said, low for his men. One of whom was rather slim in frame, and...on the inside of his heavy black jacket…

"There's a woman," Quinn murmured, out of the side of her mouth. "The one in the black jacket. She's trying to hide it, but look."

"Boobs," Santana answered after a moment. "You think she's hiding it from them or us?"

"Us. She'd do a better job if it was them. I'd hope."

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention again," the leader said loudly, flourishing his gun. Several eyes instantly followed its course through the air. "It's time for our next game, and this one is very, very simple. We'll call it Getting to Know You. We'll walk around the room, ask your name, and a word to describe yourself. For example." He reached across to the middle of a table, pulling the bouquet of white roses from its vase and shaking them out. "My name is Gabriel. So I would say, Godly Gabe. Now it doesn't have to be alliterative, but you get extra points if it is. Anyone who drops this will be joining our friends in the lobby. Questions?"

Silence. Gabriel sent the bouquet flying, and Quinn caught it between her fingers.

"Go."

She pursed her lips. "Quiet Quinn."

He smiled at her. "Perfect. Now toss it to someone else."

She passed it to Santana, who glowered and passed it to Brittany as she said sharply, "Satanic Santana."

His lips spread into a grin. "Love it. Faster."

Brittany fiddled with the red ribbon on the bouquet. "B-blue Brittany."

"Fair. Go on."

Brittany's lip trembled, but she turned to make eye contact with Tina, and tossed it across the divide between them. Tina caught it with a sharp breath.

"This doesn't make sense. Why wear ski masks and then say their names in front of us?" Santana prodded Quinn's side.

Quinn sighed.

"T-terrified Tina."

Michael, Daniel. Gabriel. Quinn shifted.

"Mad Mike."

"They're not their real names," she muttered. "They're codenames. Angel's names."

Santana sniffed. "Why didn't he just take the next step and call himself God then?"

"Angry...Artie."

Artie passed the bouquet up to Mr. Schuester next to him. His fingers shook as he took it, and said nothing. Gabriel kept the gun pointed steadily at his head, eyebrows rising. Mr. Schuester made a choking noise, and Gabriel stepped closer.

"Come on now."

Mr. Schuester opened his mouth. No sound.

"Come on. THINK!"

Quinn felt a collective jump in the room as Gabriel's expression and his tone turned dark and furious for the first time since they'd come in shooting. She had to admit feeling her own stomach lurch, as the gun came closer to Mr. Schuester's curly, sweating head.

"Tick tock!"

Mr. Schuester glanced to Ms. Pillsbury next to him. She may have been trembling only slightly more than him, but both their knuckles were white as they held hands tight together. Gabriel switched his aim to Ms. Pillsbury in a second.

"Perhaps you need more incentive, hm?"

"No!" Mr. Schuester tried and failed to step in front of Ms. Pillsbury, his knees locking.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Our first loser!" Gabriel cocked the gun.

"WEENY! W-weeny Willy," Mr. Schuester breathed out, and at length closed his eyes in shame.

Gabriel smiled. "Well, that's a good one. Toss it." He gestured with the gun, and Ms. Pillsbury carefully took the bouquet from Mr. Schuester's hands.

"Are you getting the same idea I am?" Santana breathed in her ear.

"Depends. If you're thinking this guy is certifiable and doesn't give a damn about Christian ethics, then yes." Quinn nodded back to her, and Santana's brow furrowed, first with worry and then an anger that only darkened her eyes.

"Counselor Emma."

Mercedes grabbed the bouquet just over Puck's unconscious head, closing her eyes in relief while Sam helped her straighten again. Quinn bit her lip, watching.

"Mag...nificent Mercedes."

"Sam I am."

"Frightening Finn."

"Jolly Julie."

"Kick-ass Katie."

"Nightmare Nick."

The Warbler tossed it carefully over to Rachel, who wiped her cheeks and muttered, "Rambling Rachel."

She glanced down to Kurt and Blaine, then to Gabriel, anxious. He gestured toward Mr. Hummel with the gun, and she took a breath before leaning over the two boys to hand it over.

Mr. Hummel was still flushed red, but he heaved, "Papa Bear Burt."

Finally, he handed it to Mrs. Hudson-Hummel, and she whimpered, "Caring Carole."

Gabriel lowered his gun and grinned. "Nice work, everyone. So, now that we all know each other a little better, don't think of yourselves as my hostages, think of yourselves as...my pupils. Sit quietly," he gestured toward the tables, "Or die."

Silence followed again. His pleasant smile changed.

"SIT! DOWN!"

Julie and Katie, as they'd named themselves, started forward first to the nearest table. Others soon followed, and Santana grabbed Brittany's hand to bring her to sit down. Quinn followed the two to a table and glanced across the room again, to Kurt and Blaine. One of the burlier men whose name she hadn't caught jerked Blaine's shoulder, but he rocked forward the instant he wriggled free.

"He's bleeding to death," Rachel sobbed suddenly. "He needs...a doctor, you have to let him go!"

"I don't have to do anything," Gabriel answered. "Sit down, Miss Rambling Rachel. Or lie on the floor with him. Papa Bear, too." He gestured with his gun again.

Mr. Hummel shook his head, and Mrs. Hummel held tight to his arm. "I'm not standing around letting my son bleed to death. You get him help now."

Finn straightened at Rachel's elbow. "At least let someone help Blaine."

"I'm a nurse, I can help," Mrs. Hummel whimpered.

"I don't think you remember the rules. I am in charge here; you, on the other hand, have two choices. Behave, or die. Now sit. Down." He swiveled his gun to Rachel's head.

Quinn stood abruptly and felt one of the gunmen immediately at her back. "I thought the point was for him to watch Kurt die. The longer it takes, the worse he suffers. A nurse would slow it down. But she also can't save him, not here, not now."

Gabriel paused, and the silence beat heavily. Quinn felt a gun press against the base of her neck, and next to her Brittany and Santana clasped hands on the table. Finn was almost smiling at her. The rest only stared.

"Very well. The nurse only. The rest of you _sit down_ before I put another hole in him."

Mr. and Mrs. Hummel exchanged a glance and she rubbed his arm before crashing to her knees next to Blaine, whose shoulders shook. Finn wrapped his arm around Rachel's shoulders, ushering her toward a nearby table with Mr. Hummel, and after one step, Rachel met eyes with Quinn and mouthed, 'Thank you.'

Quinn nodded once and took her seat again.

Just as everyone had settled, Mrs. Hummel quietly murmuring to Blaine, the phone rang out with a blast, and Gabriel marched across the room with a smile.

"I knew we needed the lobby phone." He picked up. "Good evening, who am I speaking to?"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Santana growled under her breath.

The gunman Quinn had surmised was Michael hovered nearby, so she ducked her head down low.

"Would you have preferred I let him shoot them all?"

"I'd prefer you didn't get yourself shot."

Brittany nodded anxiously, but Quinn shook her head.

"You haven't been following that advice, so why should I?"

"Because I'm more badass than you."

"Shh."

Gabriel was pacing with the phone in hand. "This is a mission of mercy, Commissioner. We are educating them on the error of their ways and I'm afraid that means you have nothing to offer me. These people will come out if and when their souls have been saved, and only then. As for us, our exit strategy is solid. There is no need to bargain for our immunities." A pause. "Very well, there are nineteen healthy bodies here. I'm afraid the twentieth is bleeding to death on the floor. Thank you for calling, Commissioner. Goodbye."

He tossed the phone to Daniel and stepped closer to the rest of his men.

"The police don't have a hostage negotiator - yet. It'll be some time until their next call."

Quinn sighed and cradled her forehead, while Santana grunted, "Exit strategy?"

"They were counting on the police showing up. They had to have something in place to avoid them after they're finished...with us, we just don't know what it is yet."

"I have a feeling it doesn't end with any of us breathing."

Brittany quaked with a tearful sigh, and Santana was quick to take her hand into her lap.

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose, watching Gabriel toss a heavy bag to one of the empty tables and unzip it. "Either way, we have to stall his games as much as possible."

"What if he knows what we're doing?" Brittany whimpered.

"We'll have to be subtle, but not all of his games will be like the name game, his games are meant to end with somebody dead."

"Excuse me, did I say you could talk?" Gabriel flourished his gun as he stepped over toward them, carrying a leather bound book in the other hand now.

Silence followed once again, and he smiled, long enough to smack the book down in front of a sweating, flushed Mr. Schuester, who jumped nearly out of his seat.

"Open it and read, Weeny Willy."

"That one's not happy," Santana murmured, while Mr. Schuester opened up the cover.

Quinn cast a quick glance around. "Which one?"

"The one in the Carhartt. Daniel."

"He was carrying the dead women out," Brittany added.

Quinn pressed a finger to her lips, as Michael moved closer, but still cast a glance over to the man in the Carhartt. In fact, Daniel was shifting on his heels, staring at Gabriel rather than the table he was supposed to be guarding. Uncomfortable was a word for it.

"'In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth,'" Mr. Schuester's uncertain voice began. "'And the earth was without form, and void. And darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, and it was good, and God divided the light from the darkness.'"

"What the fuck…"

The groan came from the floor, but not from Kurt's side, and Quinn spied Puck cradling his head as he pushed himself up from the carpeting.

"Ah, you're awake. I'm afraid you've missed quite a bit, but there's no time for catching you up. Raphael." Gabriel nodded to the burly man, who marched over to Puck and yanked him to a seat with Sam and Mercedes, leaving a solid hand on his shoulder while Puck groaned aloud.

"If you're gonna read the Bible, knock me out again."

"Keep quiet, or you'll get a bullet instead. Carry on, Weeny Willy."

Raphael kept his gun against Puck's jaw, and though Puck looked at him with an angry eye, he closed his mouth after a glance at Quinn.

Mr. Schuester swallowed. "'And God called the light day, and the darkness he called night...'"

"You realize the Bible is a crock of shit, right?" Santana said loudly.

Michael stepped up to her side, aiming his gun.

"Santana," Quinn hissed.

"You said stall," she muttered, then smiled at Gabriel.

"This is not what I meant."

"Care to elaborate, darling?" Gabriel prompted, and Brittany's tears left her sniffling.

Santana shrugged. "An ancient book written by a bunch of old Jewish men, edited through the years by, shocker, more old men? It's shit."

"God spoke through them," he answered slowly.

"Spoke through them? Please. If you mean they smoked a little too much grass and decided to write down whatever the hell they were thinking at the time, then maybe."

"Santana, please," Brittany begged.

"'Huh, I think a lobster talked to me yesterday, we probably shouldn't eat shellfish anymore.'"

"Santana, don't," other voices chimed in, some timid like Tina, some strong like Mercedes.

Michael spoke for the first time then, angrily, "The Bible is the only document containing the words of God, and therefore the only truth we have to go by."

"If you're so high on it, then why do you have a chick with you? Shouldn't she be in a kitchen somewhere?"

The woman's head popped around from across the room, bracing herself. Michael pushed the gun against the side of Santana's head, but Gabriel shook his head.

"Mary is a warrior for our righteous cause," he said. "To deny her the right to fight for it would be equally unjust."

"Right. What is she, your lover, wife, sister?" Santana scoffed, and Michael's eyes narrowed beneath his ski mask.

"'Thou shalt not kill,'" Quinn cut in, desperately. Her breathing eased, as Michael lifted his rifle and attention away. Mary, across the room, relaxed, but Daniel seemed to tense nearby. "Exodus 20:13."

Gabriel smiled at her. "We do so in the service of God."

"And God condemns you for it," Quinn answered.

He hummed, eyeing her. She made a point to hold eye contact, to keep Santana off radar. Then that smile rose again.

"You require an education in interpretation. One you will receive once you convince your Satanic friend to cease interruption of the reading, and...to offer you some incentive, you will now be responsible for whatever demerits she earns with her behavior."

Rachel's head jerked up. "Demerits?"

Gabriel wheeled around. "Did I fail to mention that we are working on a points system? For every reward, there is a punishment. Of which, our Satanic Santana has earned herself eight."

"For what?" Santana scowled, indignant.

"Four for speaking out of turn at the beginning of the night, two for attitude to me and my men, and two more for interrupting the reading. Ten earns you a body bag, so I suggest, darling Quinn, that you keep her quiet." Gabriel stared at the both of them, his expression verging on that darkness again.

Santana glanced over to her, and Quinn swallowed, ducking her head.

Gabriel clapped Mr. Schuester on the shoulder. "Continue the reading."

He nodded his curly head, sniffed, and started once more, "'And...and the evening and the morning were the first day. And God said - '"

The phone rang. Gabriel ripped around and stomped to it. "_Yes_?" A pause. "Ah, what happened to my dear Commissioner?"

Quinn shared a look with Santana, who was biting down on her lip as Brittany hugged onto her shoulder, trembling. Stalling had backfired, or at least Santana's version of it had, but that had been the chance they were agreeing to take. She could see the question in Santana's eyes, as Gabriel explained again why there would be no negotiations and no exchanges. Now what?

She couldn't answer. Now that Gabriel had set a limit on bad behavior, even speaking out of turn, there was nothing to do but sit tight until the situation changed again.

She let her gaze wander the room, in the meantime. Mrs. Hummel and Blaine were sagged with exhaustion over Kurt, still out like a light, but the two hadn't given up or cried out. He had to be alive yet. Thank God he was still unconscious. Mr. Hummel hung over the back of his chair to watch the three of them, red-faced, breathing so heavily she felt a flicker of worry in the back of her mind.

Finn sat next to him with a bouncing knee and a furrowed brow, much the same way as most everyone else sat. Nervous and strung-out. Staring at guns as they passed by their tables and at Gabriel, waiting for him to crack again, waiting to be shot where they sat. Puck was still holding his head; Sam's hair was a fluffed up mess from his constant stroking, and Mercedes wrung the table cloth in her lap. But above the edge of the table, she sat rigid and proud. Quinn offered a bare smile to her, and when it was returned, she looked at last to Rachel.

Rachel sat slumped, back in her chair, tear tracks down her cheeks. She was the picture of despair.

"Wait, what are they doing?" Brittany suddenly whispered.

Quinn lifted her gaze away. Michael, Daniel, Raphael - almost all of them save for Mary and the ones guarding the exits - were digging in the big black bag again, and setting up devices on the wall.

Gabriel was off the phone again, marching through the room once more. "In case you are wondering what our unique decorations are, it is plastique. There are enough explosives in here now to destroy the room and all of you. However, there is a sixty second delay on the detonator, and those of you who are left unsaved by the end of the night will be fortunate enough to have that one last minute while we press the button and go out the back. The police will be so busy searching through your bodies that they won't pay any attention to us."

Brittany was gripping Santana so tightly now Quinn saw red imprints in her arms.

"Exit strategy," Santana breathed.

"In case anyone feels an idiotic urge, however, we will be rotating possession of the detonator," he said, passing off the black box to Raphael as he shot a significant glower about the room. "And if at any point the task at hand becomes impossible due to your resistance, we will set it off. Therefore your ability to follow instructions and to listen may very well save your lives. So I suggest you sit back, enjoy the reading, and _shut up_."

His pointed glower reached to not only Puck, but Quinn and Santana as well. It took some time for him to decide he was satisfied, and to clap Mr. Schuester on the shoulder again.

Now what, indeed.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Mr. Schuester's voice was cracking by the time he neared the end of Genesis 1, but he hadn't dared to stop, or to pass the book to Ms. Pillsbury, though she looked ready to grab it from him. Gabriel said nothing. He only paced, with a curious smile on his face. The other tables were filled with the occasional murmur, Julie and Katie to each other, Mercedes and Sam now and then. Even Mike and Tina, across from Mr. Schuester, would duck heads together. Finn said a few things to Mr. Hummel, and to Rachel. Neither of them seemed too interested.

But Quinn's table was silent at last. Santana rested her chin on her palm, as if hoping it would keep her from speaking, from bursting. Michael kept a close eye on them, ready to aim at any moment, it seemed. It only increased the trembling in Brittany's tall frame, the awareness of him, of their doom hooked to the walls.

Quinn could only sigh, and think, while Mr. Schuester croaked on. Their assumption had been correct. Save or no save, Gabriel's end game was to kill them all, and they would all leave in body bags. It made the interim seem rather pointless, but for someone as corrupt in their thinking as Gabriel, she had to guess it was all part of the fun for him. For the rest of his men - and the woman, Mary - she could only assume they were all relatively sane, considering the unlikelihood of this many sociopaths gathering under the idea of religious correction to excuse their murdering.

No, they had to believe what Gabriel was saying. But Daniel didn't seem so sure anymore. Every glance over to the short man in the Carhartt found him weaving from foot to foot, staring between the Bible in Mr. Schuester's sweaty hands and Gabriel. He readjusted his grip on his rifle repeatedly.

He seemed comfortable with the weapon. They all did, in fact. They wielded them with poise, and she wondered. They all dressed the way Daniel and Gabriel did - flannels, boots, outdoor wear. Like they were going on a hunting trip. Religious hunters who had taken their liking for shooting things too far? She supposed people like that, people familiar with weapons and staunchly conservative, would be easy prey for someone like Gabriel. Charismatic and eager to flex his insanity.

"'And God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all of earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created he him, male and female he created he them. And God - '"

"Stop!" Gabriel smacked his hand down on a table, and they all leapt, but none harder than Mr. Schuester, who swallowed. Gabriel smiled. "Male and female. Male first, he him, and then female. A woman as companion to a man. Do you understand?"

"God needed lesbians?" Puck drawled from his slouched position, and Santana bit down on her own forefinger.

Gabriel nodded once, and Raphael struck Puck across the face.

"Man and woman, not man and man," Gabriel went on. "Not woman and woman. One cannot survive without the other."

No one spoke, and Gabriel stood straight. Mr. Schuester took a breath.

"No. I'm beginning to think from the chatter that you all are getting a little too comfortable here and forgetting that I am the one in charge here. So we're going to start anew, beginning with you." He aimed his gun at Santana, and Michael jerked her up from her chair abruptly. "Move her over here. And that one with our mouthy friend with the mohawk."

The next few minutes were filled with the remaining guests being dragged from their seats, shifted to new spots, and Quinn felt the dread pool in her stomach as she caught the look on Santana's face. Panicked, stricken, and far away from Quinn and her influence. Or even Brittany, who now petted Puck's mohawk through quiet sobs, staring across the room at Santana.

There wasn't long to dwell, however; Artie was rolled over next to her with a forceful shove from Michael, and one of the other men wearing a reflective vest brought Mercedes to sit near. Quinn instinctively grabbed for her hand under the tabletop. Nick the Warbler was the last one to join her table, his own the last to be sorted.

There were four at four different tables now, and Katie was the last, the odd girl out. Raphael had her by the wrist, and Gabriel stepped up to her. He made a show of sighing, glancing around at the evenly filled tables. Katie's eyes went wide and white.

"Oh, God," Artie whispered.

Mercedes' hand tightened around Quinn's.

"Well, look at that, such a neat, quiet, organized room, wouldn't you say, darling? I'd hate to ruin it, so I'm afraid we won't be needing you at the moment," Gabriel said, and with a nod to Raphael, stepped away from them.

The large man whipped Katie around and, without a moment of preamble, shot her at close range, silencer on the end of his rifle. Julie screamed and tried to bolt to her side, but Finn, Mike, and Sam - her new table partners - had the presence of mind to grab her before Raphael could swivel his gun their way. Quinn swallowed and lowered her head, while Mercedes sniffed next to her.

Julie sobbed, and one of the guards dragged Katie out of the room. Once the lobby door gave a click, Gabriel smacked his hand down on Mr. Schuester's shoulder.

"Finish the chapter. Then give it to one of your new friends," he said amiably.

Mr. Schuester loosened his tie and took in a breath. "'And God blessed them, and God said unto them…'"

As his voice droned on weakly, between heavy throat clearing and coughs, Quinn turned her attention to the new arrangements, finding Rachel seated uncomfortably between Tina and Santana, across from their glee club coach. Again, she was slumped, tear tracks drying on her face as she stared past Mr. Schuester to the three quietly seated on the floor by the far wall. Mrs. Hummel and Blaine were drooped with exhaustion. But they hadn't given up. Still alive.

Santana, in the meantime, bounced her knee beneath the table as Michael hovered directly behind her now, peering down his scope at her now and then.

Quinn pursed her lips, and instead looked to her own table, her attention going first to Artie.

"You okay?" she whispered, once she caught his eyes.

He smiled thinly and nodded, and she returned the gesture before turning to Mercedes with concern. Her friend was glancing from Sam, holding a still-weeping Julie in his lap, to Kurt, to the gunmen. Quinn squeezed her hand, and Mercedes tried to smile.

"All right?"

Mercedes shrugged her shoulders minutely, avoiding the attention of their distracted guard. Daniel had since moved to their table, and Quinn found relief in that. A chance not only to speak, but to test his limits, to see how dedicated he really was, if her read on him was correct and if he was, in fact, having his doubts now that he'd seen the bodies and the blood and heard the screaming.

"He's still alive," she assured, gently, nodding toward Kurt.

Mercedes glanced at Daniel, then murmured, "Thanks to you. We all owe you for that. You saved his life."

Quinn's gaze flickered away, to the bombs taped to the walls. "Delayed his death. There's a difference."

"Don't say that. If you've given up hope, then it's over," she retorted earnestly.

Quinn barely smiled. "Don't take my word so seriously, I'm a cynic, after all."

"No, you're not. You're a realist. You see everything, Quinn," Mercedes whispered. "What people feel, and what could happen, and - "

"Would you two shut up before you get us shot?" Nick suddenly hissed, and Quinn glowered his way.

Mercedes settled back into her chair, but Quinn felt a squeeze on her hand beneath the table, and relaxed herself as well. That is, until she looked to Santana again, bunching up more than ever.

#

By the end of Genesis 3, Gabriel had grown impatient once again, even with the relative silence of the hostages. There hadn't even been a phone call since the last, which on the one hand was a concern to Quinn. It could have so many meanings, the lack of contact from the police. Not that they'd abandoned them, of course - she could faintly hear the sirens from outside - but they seemed to have given up on hostage negotiation. Their focus would have to be minimizing deaths, but it had to mean they weren't hopeful.

It was understandable. Gabriel was calm and smooth on the phone, no trace of panic or worry in his voice. He had a plan and he intended to stick to it. How could you negotiate with someone who was perfectly satisfied with the world as it was?

Except Quinn could see the lack of action was getting to him. He didn't want to hear the entirety of the Bible read out loud any more than the rest of them did, but he'd started and now there was no stopping until he had made whatever point he'd intended to make. And he'd done too good a job scaring them into speaking or acting out. He'd guaranteed death and now he had an obedient, terrified, sweating group of hostages who wouldn't dare make a move.

Well, besides maybe Santana and Puck. The latter was still busy holding his head, however, from the last reproach he'd received. The crack of the rifle against his head probably meant a concussion, and possibly a skull fracture. He wouldn't be feeling well for some time.

Santana, in the meantime, was doing her best not to explode, but without Brittany's calming influence and Quinn's intervention, and _with_ Michael breathing down her neck with a gun and the silence surrounding her, digging into her - she was having difficulty. She'd chewed all her fingernails off by now, despite Rachel, now and then, setting a hand on her shoulder. Santana would stop then, but the effectiveness of the reminding touch only lasted a few moments before she would be back at it.

Quinn crossed her fingers that they would wind up at the same table again, once Gabriel started pulling them all out of their seats again, tearing her from Mercedes. Of course she had no such luck. Daniel pulled her all the way past Santana, and Brittany, and Rachel, to sit with a sweating Mr. Schuester, a flushed Mr. Hummel, and a frowning Mike.

Her concern for Mr. Hummel spiked again. His breathing was heavier than ever, and though he tried valiantly to keep watching his wife, son, and son-in-law, his brow was dripping with sweat he repeatedly had to wipe away with his tie. She leaned herself closer to him while Gabriel passed off the book to Ms. Pillsbury across the way, thankful that Daniel had followed her to this table.

"Are you all right?"

He looked to her immediately, and Mr. Schuester seemed to jump at the sound of her voice, even as quiet as she'd spoken.

Mr. Hummel nodded his head and took a wheezing breath. "I'm okay. Thank you." He wiped his face. "And thank you...for my son."

Quinn's lips pursed, and though she offered an absent nod, her attention was still on his health. His bright red face was starting to turn a sickly shade of grey, and his fingers shook in a way she doubted stemmed from fear.

She searched behind herself, around the table, until she found Daniel, again alternating his own attention between Gabriel and the reader of the Bible.

"Hey," she called lowly.

Brown eyes met hers from beneath the thick wool of the man's ski mask, and Quinn smiled.

"He's really not feeling well, do you think we could get a glass of water?"

Daniel looked at her, at Mr. Hummel, and that was all it took before he nodded and stepped away. The reading abruptly stopped.

"Excuse me."

Daniel froze.

"What exactly is going on over here?" Gabriel's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"She asked for some water, I didn't see any point in - "

"I would be more careful if I were you, Daniel. Queen Quinn is more trouble than she seems. A pleasant surprise, to be sure, but very deadly, if handled incorrectly. Aren't you, dear?" He leaned over the table, smiling sharply at her.

Quinn set her eyes on his steadily. "He had a heart attack a couple years ago. He needs to stay hydrated. Unless you'd rather let nature kill him for you."

"Perhaps it's God's way of punishing him."

"And unless you want a bunch of smelly, wet seats in here...I suggest you start giving us bathroom breaks," she continued.

Gabriel locked gazes with her for what seemed an interminable amount of time. And then smiled.

"Very well. Mary, go get our guests some refreshments, would you? Aker. Take your group first. Use the ladies' rooms, and make sure you go in with them." He turned about to smile down at the man in the reflective vest's table - Artie, Sam, Finn, and Rachel. Finn scooted himself closer to Rachel. "We don't want anyone falling in, after all."

Aker nodded once and pulled Artie away from the table, jerking the head of his gun against Sam's shoulder. "Let's go."

Rachel hesitated, shooting a glance over at Kurt, Blaine, and Mrs. Hummel, before her gaze traveled back around and met Quinn's eyes. Quinn was quick to mouth, subtly, 'It's okay,' and Rachel rose from her chair, with Finn following close behind her, a hand on her back.

The five traveled single file out the side door Mary had been guarding; it looked as if it led to a dim hallway, probably toward the back of the hotel. Gabriel must've had men out there as well, blocking other entrances to the building. Only the lobby had gone left unguarded before, or at least she assumed so when Gabriel said the bodies would be a gift. If he'd meant it, then it was possible it remained police territory, or that shortly after the bodies of the dead and critically injured were removed, the guards took over again. And if he hadn't, then everyone who'd been dragged out into that lobby was now dead.

Quinn shook her head of it. In any case, there was nothing she could do for them. Only the people around at her at the moment, and at the very least, she could say she had offered some relief for Mr. Hummel, who took slow, careful sips between breaths, and closed his eyes as he sat back. His coloring was better by the time Rachel's table returned, and Michael snapped Santana to her feet to take her, Puck, Nick, and Ms. Pillsbury next. Mr. Schuester glugged his glass down.

Gabriel snatched the book from Tina's hands to thrust it into Nick's instead when they all returned. He was almost as sweaty as Mr. Schuester, even after a brief break, but Quinn was more concerned about Santana. She had gone from biting her nails to twisting her hair, and Quinn had a feeling she'd snap at any moment without intervention.

#

By the time the phone rang again, Gabriel had grown impatient and irritable once more. With his hostages' bladders and throats relieved for the time being, the stress in the room had gone down, and even though it was only marginally so, it was a dissatisfactory state of affairs for someone as insane as him.

So as soon as the phone rang out, he jerked forward and grabbed the chair almost out from under Puck, who grunted and gripped the table in order to keep his footing. The ringing continued as Gabriel ordered his guards to move them all from their seats once more.

Quinn was pushed past Santana and Brittany, once again, but this time as she found her seating, Rachel was shoved down next to her. Thankfully, it was Daniel who stayed with them; if he noticed Rachel snatching Quinn's hand beneath the table, he didn't say anything, even when Quinn shot her a surprised glance. It took her a moment to recover, but she threaded her fingers through with Rachel's.

Mike and Ms. Pillsbury were put across from them, but said nothing as the sounds of the phone died out abruptly, leaving them without a chance to check on one another. Rachel's grip tightened around Quinn's hand as Gabriel approached their table, narrowing his eyes before passing by to toss the Bible down in front of Santana.

"Read this, what was it you said? Crock of shit."

Santana sighed, prying open the book to flip page after page, seeking out wherever Nick had left off with haste. Her speed only increased once Michael pressed his gun against her shoulder and muttered something at her aggressively. Gabriel smiled.

Once Santana started reading, it was with an edge of rage that Quinn unfortunately found very familiar, but it only lasted a short time, in thanks to the police's persistence. The phone rang just as she finished her first sentence.

Gabriel steamed, but stomped across the room this time, thrusting the phone to his ear. "Yes?"

Almost as soon as he spoke, Quinn felt a breath near her ear, and Rachel's voice followed quickly and quietly. "I was getting worried they wouldn't call again."

Quinn swallowed, but shook her head faintly. "He made it clear he's not interested in releasing any of us, I think they've been trying to find a way in without alerting him and getting more of us killed."

"Do you think they'll get in?" Rachel's face lit up, to a lesser extent than usual, until Quinn sighed.

"He was willing to take us out of the room, so he must have the hotel pretty well guarded. And the police don't know about the detonator. So even if they do get anyone past the guards without being noticed, it might only be to get blown up with us."

Rachel worried her bottom lip, and Quinn stroked their thumbs together in apology.

"Mm, allow me to check." Gabriel lowered the phone to his chest. "Caring Carole. Is our bleeder still alive?"

Mrs. Hummel craned her neck around, face drawn and exhausted, but she nodded. Quinn felt a breath go out of Rachel next to her, and her hand being gripped tighter.

"Barely."

Gabriel lifted the phone again. "Yes."

"Are they trying to get Kurt out?" Rachel breathed.

Quinn eyed Gabriel uncertainly, as he listened. "Probably not. It'd be dangerous to move him without the proper equipment and he's not about to let a bunch of EMTs in here. But they might be trying to get equipment in."

"How are you so calm?" Rachel's voice had changed from worry to awe, and when Quinn glanced at her, she found a tiny smile on her face, almost enough to deepen her dimples.

Quinn shook her head. "I'm not."

"Well, you've been able to think clearly and save Kurt, and probably Mr. Hummel, not to mention keep Santana in check."

Quinn snuffed. "Mostly."

"And you're obviously able to think out this situation while the rest of us can hardly move, let alone try to figure out what the police or that man is going to do," Rachel continued as if she hadn't said anything, admiring Quinn with big eyes.

Quinn wiped her free hand on her dress. "Trust me, if I weren't thinking about all this, I'd be in worse shape than Mr. Schuester." She nodded toward their sweating glee club coach and felt Rachel suppress a giggle next to her. Quinn smiled to herself.

Gabriel growled. "I'm not bringing in the whole damned E.R. You have an hour to think of an alternative, or I'll see to it that the groom is put out of his misery." He tossed the phone to a guard, who set it back in the rack.

Rachel's amusement faded fast. "What happened?"

Quinn sighed. "They asked for too much."

Gabriel nodded his head toward Michael, who jammed the end of his gun against Santana again, spurring her to read on.

Rachel slumped in her seat, the hopeless expression of despair draining her face of all the light and humor Quinn had seen start to build her up in the last few minutes.

"You know, when I...when I was building my - my persona, I guess you could call it, making people call me Quinn and doing ballet and all that," Quinn murmured, leaning closer to Rachel, until she felt her eyes and attention. "That's how I learned to deal with people. Before, I couldn't even place an order at a restaurant without blushing, but then I started to focus on things, little things. Like...how someone might fiddle with their phone, or their wedding ring while they were talking. Or if their face was puffy, or their eyes were red. And noticing things like that, putting together the pieces, it calmed me down, it gave me some power over them, knowing things that they didn't want me to know, just by looking."

Rachel was smiling at her by the time she finished, her shoulders still a little tight, but her hand had loosened its grip and she was smiling. Quinn squeezed Rachel's fingers in her own and smiled back. But before she could say a word more, or ask Rachel how she calmed herself down, or even scoot her chair closer, Santana snapped.

"GET OFF OF ME!"

Quinn rose up from her chair instantly, breaking her hand from Rachel's as she hurried to Santana's side. Michael had pushed her too far, by muttering something, pushing his gun too hard into her, something. Quinn had missed it, but Santana had lunged for him with the butter knife she had hidden in a cloth napkin from one of the tables. Quinn grabbed her around the waist, and Michael, Gabriel, Raphael - they all aimed straight for the two of them.

"Stop it," Quinn hissed to Santana, and her friend stopped struggling, holding the butter knife aloft and panting.

"Well, well. I believe this means we've reached the tenth demerit, doesn't it?" Gabriel purred, walking over to them with that smile.

"I suppose it won't count for anything that the bastard was fucking harassing me," Santana panted, dropping the knife to the floor with a clang.

Quinn loosened her grip.

Gabriel grinned. "Nice try, but I'm afraid not. Well, kiddies, say goodbye to Queen Quinn and Satanic Santana."

He cocked his gun, Quinn grabbed Santana's arm, and all at once, several people were on their feet - Puck, Brittany, Rachel, Mercedes. They all leapt up, but Puck sank down instantly afterward, holding his head between both hands. Aker got a hold of Brittany, though she fought him and cried out 'no' over and over, while Michael turned his gun's aim onto Mercedes, and Daniel took Rachel's arm.

"Well. Who knew the two of you would be so well-loved?" Gabriel glanced around, eyes narrowing in delight. "Still."

Quinn swallowed sharply, her gaze flickering to the left, to Rachel. Her heart pounded against her ribcage.

He fired.

Brittany screamed. Quinn let loose a ragged breath and took a glance over Santana, who checked herself over and then promptly looked at Gabriel in disbelief.

"Look at that trajectory, always drifting to the left," he said giddily, stepping toward them. "Such a problem. I applaud you, though, Queen Quinn, you didn't even flinch. Very impressive. You get to die second." He lifted his gun again, then sighed. "As soon as you SHUT THAT GIRL UP!"

Aker covered Brittany's mouth, but she only bit down on his hand.

"Would you like to join them in Hell, Blue Brittany?" Gabriel started to swivel, but Santana and Quinn both jerked forward at once - Santana to attack him, Quinn to hold her back.

"We're her best friends. You can't expect her to watch us die quietly," Quinn rushed out.

Gabriel cocked his eyebrow at her. A beat weigh heavily between them all. Her lungs dragged in labored breaths.

Quinn sighed. "At least don't make her watch. Take us out of the room."

Another pregnant pause, before Gabriel finally lowered his gun, and smiled. "Fair enough. Mary, find a room and take care of these two. Go."

He gestured behind him, and Quinn breathed out and shoved Santana forward before she could say a word, toward Mary, who lifted her gun to steer them out into the dim hallway out the side door.

A shot was fired after two minutes, and the second followed shortly.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It took a moment for it to sink in. Mercedes sank back into her chair, slowly. Noah muttered, "Jesus, shit," in what Rachel could swear was a muffled sob. Finally, Brittany wailed a long, drawn out "no" and went limp on Aker's restraining arm, until he let her crumple to the floor, rocking herself. Julie crawled off her chair to sit next to her, in sympathy.

Rachel didn't think when she reacted. She hadn't been able to think all night, of course, not with guns pointed at her and all the people she loved, but hearing that shot, its finality, it snapped even her strongest restraints and she found herself flying at the man who called himself Gabriel, despite the guard behind her trying to catch and pull her back.

Gabriel caught her wrists as she slammed a fist into his chest, screaming in his face, "YOU KILLED HER, YOU BASTARD! You bastard! You are _evil_!" Daniel pulled her back a step or two, and she whirled on him. "ALL OF YOU!" His eyes went wide, and he dropped his hand from her. "_You're_ the ones who should die!" She lunged for Gabriel again, punching him in the chest as hard as she could urge her arms to pound.

She heard Ms. Pillsbury faintly behind her, urging her desperately, "Rachel, you need to calm down. I know it's upsetting, but you're only going to get yourself in trouble, too."

"I suggest you listen to your counselor, darling," Gabriel answered, holding her by the wrist in a bruising grip.

"Why bother? You're going to kill us all anyway, right? You don't care about us, you set Santana up to blow up and you made sure to set Quinn up with her."

"That's the purpose of my games, to set apart the savable from the unsalvageable."

Rachel shoved against him. "So what's your purpose, huh? Quinn and Santana had their whole lives ahead of them and they had people who loved them. You, you could get every single one of us in this room to say that homosexuality is wrong and you'll _still_ be the same worthless bastard you were when you came in."

She panted up at his smiling face, and heard Finn saying, "Rachel, please, please…"

Noah, on the other hand, growled out, "She's right. You're a piece of shit."

Gabriel gripped her wrist a little harder, but turned to face the room at large. "You people don't seem to understand one thing. You are not in charge here, _I_ _am_. And our dear Rambling Rachel is right about one thing. I don't give a damn whether you live or die, so either repress your urges to lash out, or - " He pulled Rachel closer and held his gun to her temple. "Bang bang."

"No!" Finn smacked his hand on the table, but Michael was keeping him in check with his own rifle.

"Now SIT DOWN before you FALL DOWN dead!" He held Rachel fast, while Julie helped Brittany back into her chair, and Puck was yanked back into his. "And you. Curb your hysterics if you don't want your lover boy to go next."

Rachel swallowed thickly and bit her teeth together tightly. As soon as Gabriel let her wrist go, she whipped around and dug into his front pocket, ripping out the necklace he had placed there earlier and daring him with a glare as she backed away with it.

"This isn't yours."

Gabriel only smiled, and Rachel wrapped the necklace with the dangling cross around her wrist as she backed up to her seat once more.

Mary walked back in, and Rachel's throat filled with bile at the sight of her nodding to Gabriel, wielding her rifle and looking to the room at large. Rachel was quick to look away when she looked over at her table. She didn't think she could handle it without flying into another episode. And Quinn wouldn't want that, and it wouldn't help Kurt. She closed her eyes.

The damn lobby phone started screeching again.

"Ah, just as I thought," Gabriel said giddily, and picked up the phone. "Yes?" A lengthy pause. "No, I'm afraid those were two entirely unrelated deaths. The groom is still alive, I believe."

His voice traveled across the room as he spoke, and Rachel pressed the cross into her palm as she looked over to find him kicking Kurt's shoe. Blaine similarly tensed, but did nothing.

"Have you found us another alternative?"

Alternative?

Oh, yes. To having supplies brought in, like Quinn had said, before the police pushed too far and he'd hung up. What could they possibly think up to fix it? The delighted look on Gabriel's face offered no reassurances to her churning stomach.

"Now that could be interesting. I'm listening." A pause. "We have a nurse on deck here already - _no_ exchanges. However, allow me to be sure our...caring nurse is willing to carry it out." He lowered the phone, and Rachel's brow furrowed as he tapped his gun against Mrs. Hummel's shoulder. "Well, Caring Carole, it appears you have a decision to make."

Mrs. Hummel looked up quickly, quaking. "What?"

"Our kind police officers have made a bargain with us, but the particulars aren't important, all you need to decide is whether you're willing to perform surgery on this boy, right here, now, or if you're going to let him die. What shall it be?"

Mrs. Hummel was shaking so badly all of a sudden Rachel could clearly see it from her spot, but she silently prayed, and gripped onto the cross tighter. It was Kurt's only hope. Don't say no.

"He's my stepson," Mrs. Hummel whimpered.

"Then that should give you more incentive to do it right," Gabriel said with a smile.

"This room isn't sterile, and I don't have the equipment here to - "

"Then he'll die right now." He went to lift the phone again.

"No! I'll-I'll do it. I'll do it."

Blaine relaxed slightly next to her, and Rachel let loose a painful breath.

Gabriel smiled. "Good." He offered the phone to Mrs. Hummel, but lifted his gun before she could take it. "Don't do anything stupid."

Mrs. Hummel sniffed and nodded, taking the phone with a shaky, bloody hand. "This is Nurse Hummel from...from Lima General." She listened and then bent over Kurt a bit more. "The, um...the bullet entered Kurt's...entered the victim's abdomen through the left side. He's lost a lot of blood." Another pause, and she felt over his stomach. Rachel craned her neck to try and see beyond Blaine and her body. "He's firm."

After a few more moments, Mrs. Hummel shook and looked up at Gabriel, whimpering, "I-I need a pen and paper, can I…?"

"No. Mary, go get a pad and paper from the lobby."

Mary stepped away from the side door quickly, keeping her rifle pointed toward the ground. On her return, Mrs. Hummel passed Blaine the phone to hold to her ear while she took the pad and pen, with a quiet thanks up to Mary.

"Okay, go ahead."

She wrote rapidly, while Blaine kept the phone against her ear and his other hand on Kurt's side, and it seemed to take forever. The list of supplies felt endless, and Rachel could only imagine how Mrs. Hummel must've been feeling at that moment. Writing down supplies to do surgery on her stepson, in front of his father, his husband, and with a psychopath standing over her with a gun. Not to mention Mary, who had stayed near after handing over the pen and paper.

Rachel couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason Gabriel was doing this. He had no other reason, as Quinn had pointed out, to do anything for the police. He just wanted to torture and kill them. So whatever the police had promised in return for him allowing the surgery, it didn't even matter. He wanted to see Mrs. Hummel kill Kurt.

Once Mrs. Hummel was finished, Gabriel plucked the phone away from her as she tried to say they needed time to get the supplies, and simply said, "Wait for our call," before hanging up.

Mrs. Hummel sighed. "Can I start getting the supplies?"

Gabriel hummed in thought. "No. I think...I think we should share the joy of this little adventure. So, who wants to play another game?" He glanced around the silent room, and Rachel clenched the cross tightly as he passed behind her. "Well, I think the first honor should go to the boy's father, shall it? Papa Burt can go on the scavenger hunt, and with you...let's see, Sam I Am." He gave the list over to the blond boy. "And two guards, in case either of you decides to do anything stupid, ready to shoot your companion in the head. You have twenty minutes, starting - "

"We don't know where any of these things are!" Sam burst out, eyes wide.

Mr. Hummel ducked his head, and Rachel bit her bottom lip in sympathy. He was still flushed, but since Quinn had ensured them all water, he didn't look so close to passing out anymore. But this wouldn't be any good for him.

"Then you'll have to hurry, won't you? Twenty minutes. Starting...now."

Sam shot up, helping Mr. Hummel on the way, and Gabriel gestured to Mary and another guard to stalk after them.

#

Gabriel was whistling the Jeopardy theme as the minutes wore down. They'd all had to sit there, in complete silence, the entire twenty minutes. Julie and Brittany were practically comatose, sitting next to each other with perfectly vacant expressions. Brittany's tears still ran silently down her cheeks.

Noah's head injury hadn't eased any, Rachel could see. Artie kept a cool glass of water pressed to the back of his head, in the vain hope that it would help. Mike and Ms. Pillsbury sat silently across from Rachel, both eyeing Tina and Mr. Schuester now and then. Mr. Schuester was in no better shape, but Tina seemed to have calmed a little since the beginning of the night. Not out of comfort or less fear, obviously, but Rachel understood. One could only be so terrified for so long before it started to wear on them.

Sorrow, on the other hand, was a different story. Mercedes' worry was written all over her face, as she stared across at Blaine and Mrs. Hummel, both of them shaking nervously. Or perhaps sobbing. Rachel felt a similar anxiety creeping up, but Quinn had stayed calm, and she had to, too. She had to hold her tears, hold them for later.

Finn's knee was still bouncing, and Rachel wondered how on earth he wasn't cramping. Or maybe he was, but he just couldn't stop. She knew the feeling there, too, as the cross imprinted on her palm.

Finally the door burst open again, and Sam flew inside with his guard. Mr. Hummel trailed several paces behind, bright red and panting again, with Mary at his side, holding his elbow.

"Put it on the table," Gabriel said, pointing over to the empty table nearest Kurt, Blaine, and Mrs. Hummel.

Sam and Mr. Hummel dropped their armfuls down, and handed off the list to Gabriel, who read it off in mutters to himself.

Disappointed, he admitted, "Very good, you've managed it all. You both win this round." He picked up the phone, as he said, "Give them the supplies."

Sam gathered it up hastily, while Mary sat Mr. Hummel back down at his table. Gabriel pointed the gun again at Mrs. Hummel, as he approached with the number rung, "If you say anything that isn't about the surgery...well, you know the rest."

Mrs. Hummel nodded, swallowing, and took the phone into the crook of her neck, tugging on the rubber gloves they'd brought over.

"Okay, we're ready. We got everything on the list, we just have to move Kurt onto the sheet and, we're laying out the instruments," she breathed out. "His pulse is weak."

Blaine took the phone from her again, to hold up to her ear while she bent over Kurt. Rachel couldn't quite see what was being done, but whatever it was, Kurt groaned even in his unconscious state, and she clenched her fists tightly together, chewing on her lip. She was sure she'd have a hole in it by the end of the night.

She strained to see what was happening, her neck aching as Mrs. Hummel pulled out a small knife and warned Blaine, "Get ready with the towels, there's going to be more blood."

Blaine's face was already pale, but even from her vantage point, Rachel could see him turning green.

"Okay, I'm into his abdomen, looking for the source," Mrs. Hummel breathed into the phone.

For a few more moments, there was silence save for the sound of breathing, particularly Mr. Hummel's. Rachel chanced missing something to glance at him. He'd gone white.

"Okay, I've got the bullet, working it out...now, you-you said sew the main bleed? Blaine, sponge, and hand me the thread, we're going to have to work fast."

Minutes ticked by, Mrs. Hummel working with a shaking frame but what Rachel hoped were steady hands.

"All right...all right. Checking the other organs...I think we're good. Closing up."

Gabriel grabbed the phone from Blaine's ear, and abruptly hung up.

"We weren't done!" Mrs. Hummel yelped.

"You are. The groom isn't. Move away." He held his gun up to Mrs. Hummel's head.

"I'm not finished, all I have to do is sew up the incision and bandage - "

"Not you. The groom."

Blaine stared up at him, breathing suddenly ragged. "I can't, I can't do that, I don't have any training, I don't know what I'm doing!"

"Then he'll die." Gabriel smiled. "It'll be a shame after all his family's gone through, but, way of the world, and all."

Rachel couldn't contain herself any longer. "Why are you doing this?"

He looked at her with a smile then. "Well, you see, I get bored very easily, and watching him struggle to save his beloved would be far more interesting, so. Now, get away or I'll shoot him anyway."

Mrs. Hummel swallowed, and Blaine looked as though he might throw up, for just a moment, before he took over the tools, and a guard came over to drag Mrs. Hummel to a seat with the rest of them. Rachel's stomach roiled, and she covered her mouth as she watched Blaine hesitating, staring, and realizing if he didn't shut Kurt's wound, he would just keep bleeding out. He hurried to start, shaking wildly.

The silence was cursed this time, several times by Blaine, in fact. A little 'fuck' or 'shit' escaping him now and then. Rachel couldn't help but jump each and every time.

Gabriel just smiled down at him, gun aimed lackadaisically.

At last, Blaine grabbed the roll of duct tape and bit off a few pieces, strapping them to Kurt's exposed stomach until he seemed satisfied that his husband was being semi-properly held together now. Rachel's chest released again, and she smiled briefly over at Finn and Mercedes, both of whom had offered their own soft noises of relief when Blaine leaned back from Kurt.

"Done," he said softly, and petted Kurt's hair with his bloody fingers.

"Bravo," Gabriel answered and set the end of his gun to Blaine's shoulder. "Now join the others.

Blaine peered up at him, aghast. "He's been shot - "

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Now the bullet has been removed and he's been stitched up, and in the meantime I lost two of my guests to their own idiocy, so you and Mrs. Hummel are just going to have to rejoin the group. Or I can shoot him again."

He turned the gun toward Kurt, and Blaine rose up quickly, stumbling forward to a seat.

"Very good, kiddies." Gabriel smiled. "Now, what to do…"

"How 'bout you let us the fuck go," Noah grunted.

"Oh, yes. You." Gabriel marched over to him and pulled him up by the collar of his dress shirt. "I've been meaning to deal with you, thank you so much for the reminder." He turned toward his guards. "If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, kill them."

He yanked Noah after him, back out the side door, and though a few of the boys rose up, it didn't take long for them to sit back down once they disappeared beyond the hallway.

Rachel closed her eyes again, holding the cross tightly in her palm. The whole room waited, tense. But there was no sound following, no gunshot. And the silence continued on that way, with only the sounds of the guards walking about. More specifically, Mary, who first bent down next to Kurt, checking his pulse, and then brought a glass of water to Mr. Hummel.

Then, seeming satisfied at last, she walked over to Brittany, and Rachel was in complete agreement with the reaction she received. Brittany tensed and jerked her shoulder away as soon as Mary touched her, but the guard didn't move away, instead moving around to look at Brittany properly. Rachel's head tilted, but before she could even approach a question in her mind, the two broke eye contact and Brittany screamed and lunged at Mary.

Rachel was torn - torn between running over to stop Brittany from getting herself hurt and rooting her on.

"You killed my best friends!" Brittany screamed, and one of the other guards groaned aloud.

"Get her out of here, she's only going to keep whining about it."

Mary grabbed Brittany's upper arm, and in a moment, had her out of the room, before anyone could even think to protest. In a way, Rachel was relieved when she heard the shot. She couldn't imagine Brittany even wanting to live on after knowing Santana was dead, let alone both Santana _and_ Quinn. And she understood that, completely. It was nearly impossible to hold on, knowing that, but Kurt was still hanging on, so she had to, too.

But at the same time, she hated Mary. More than she had ever hated anyone in her life, and Rachel Berry didn't hate easily. Just the sight of her stepping back in with that easy walk had her stomach churning and she just barely resisted the urge to find another butter knife, like the one Santana had grabbed, somewhere on the table.

Rachel was positive it was only Gabriel walking back in with a bruised and battered Noah that stopped her. He threw Noah into a chair and marched across toward his other guards.

"Who was the shot I heard?"

"The blonde girl was making some fuss, so I took her out," Daniel said suddenly, and Rachel frowned up at him.

But no one disputed it. Not even Mary, who only nodded to Daniel. Gabriel smiled.

"Very good. And to think, I was beginning to worry about you."

Noah slumped far down into his chair, resting his head against the back of the seat while Artie cupped some water in his hand and used it to clean up his face, and particularly his nose, of blood. Noah just grunted, half-unconscious. Rachel bit on her bottom lip and blew out a breath.

There had been so many people here at the beginning of the night. Not as many as Kurt and Blaine had originally invited, sure, but seeing the room empty of them, until there had only been the few of them, mainly made up of glee club members, and only thanks to Quinn and her memory… And now there were even less of them, and the ones who remained weren't in very good shape.

Noah beaten half to death, Kurt still lying on the floor next to all the bloody supplies, Mr. Hummel looking as though he was about to pass out on his own any moment… Not to mention, Mr. Schuester looking so strung out he might faint, too, and they were all drained, and strained, after all they'd been through already, after seeing Quinn, and Santana, and Brittany dragged out of the room, and being able to do nothing while they were killed.

Rachel twisted the cross between her fingers and tilted her head back to quell the line of tears she could feel coming on. She couldn't cry now. If she survived, she could cry her heart out, but she had to focus. She had to do what Quinn would want her to do.

Focus, and survive.

Gabriel was pacing, staring at all of them. Deciding what to do next, maybe, Rachel wasn't sure. Mary was over by Mercedes now, and Rachel both hoped Mercedes stomped on her foot, or punched her, or something, and also hoped she stayed still. It looked as though it was a struggle; Mercedes was clenching her fists in her lap and staring straight ahead, refusing to look up at the woman who had now murdered three of their friends. Of their best friends.

The sound of Mrs. Hummel whimpering brought Rachel's attention away, and in front of her sat Gabriel, on the edge of the table, holding a gun to the woman's head.

"Our dear Rambling Rachel said something very interesting earlier. Do you remember what it was? I believe she was saying that even if I could get all of you to admit that homosexuality is wrong, I'd still be worthless and so on and so forth. I'm curious now. How many of you value this...belief over your lives? Do you, Carole?"

Finn's knee was bouncing madly now. Rachel could hear his heel hitting the floor angrily, in a rhythmic pounding. Mrs. Hummel bit on her lip. Mary had moved closer, around the edge of the table.

"I asked you a question," Gabriel said, pushing the end of his gun against her forehead.

"W-whether it's wrong or not, my stepson doesn't deserve to die. N-none of us do," Mrs. Hummel sniffed.

"But you admit it's a possibility that it's wrong, hm?"

Mr. Hummel's thick breathing had picked up even more, and Mrs. Hummel was crying more audibly now. Finn squirmed in his chair, and next to him Blaine hesitated to put a hand on his shoulder, to try to calm him down.

The phone rang.

Gabriel stood up, pulling the gun from Mrs. Hummel's head while growling, "What now?" He caught the phone as one of the guards tossed it to him, and promptly grunted, "I fail to see the point in your endless calling. I have already told you, I have no interest in trading any of my hostages for anything."

He fell silent, and Rachel watched him closely. Quinn would be, had been all night. His face changed. Before he'd been confident, comfortable with sitting around and letting them suffer not knowing when he'd flip and kill them. But something in his expression was suddenly, well, angry and dark the way it turned now and then when they'd disobeyed him, but now there was a trickle of worry in the way he set his mouth, pursing his lips. His eyebrow twitched.

"I see. And how did you happen upon this information?" he said, lower. He turned away from the tables, but Rachel could see how tense his frame was. A few more moments passed. Finn's thumping heel had calmed. Gabriel spoke again, but it was much quieter than before, not meant for anyone to hear, until he continued, "Allow me time to contemplate the rest of my demands, and which hostage I'll be releasing."

Release? Why on earth would he suddenly want to release any of them? Up until now the plan had been to kill all of them, as far as Rachel could tell. The police had to have new information, the kind of information that would make him consider negotiation. She had to think, think like Quinn. What would change things?

Maybe the police had his identity. But even then, he had an escape, the detonator - the detonator. His exit strategy. They knew about it somehow. That had to be it. Because if they knew, then the explosion he was counting on distracting them would do nothing to cover his escape.

There was a chance they could survive this. Rachel squeezed the cross, tilting her head back briefly to suppress a smile.

Gabriel tossed the phone back to the guard and turned about. "Well, it appears that one of you will be leaving our little family early."

Mary was suddenly at Rachel's side, and she gasped as the woman gripped her shoulder as if to pull her out of the seat. She jerked her arm away, hissing, "Don't touch me."

"No, not that one," Gabriel said, approaching. "She's been so worried about our little groom over there, it'd be a pity for her to miss out on his ending." He smiled at her, and Rachel glared back.

Gabriel straightened, and started to pace again.

"Kurt needs to be in a hospital," Mercedes said suddenly. "If you let him go, you'll seem more merciful."

Rachel nodded quickly. "He's the only one _you've_ shot, if he lives, they'll show you more leniency."

"You could plead down to no death penalty," Mercedes added, suddenly eager.

Rachel smiled hopefully at her, and Mercedes chewed her lip through one of her own. Gabriel had paused his pacing, looking at them curiously.

"Yes, but you see, ladies, dear Kurt here is still sadly unconscious and so unable to walk out by himself, and I agreed to release _one_ hostage."

Rachel sighed and chewed her lip. Think. Think like Quinn.

"Then Mr. Hummel should go," Mercedes said. "He's in bad shape."

Rachel nodded again, sitting up straighter. "You've already had to put up with them asking for a surgery, you don't want to deal with a man with a heart attack, too."

"No," Mr. Hummel coughed. "No, Kurt needs to go."

"I believe we've already explained why that's not an option, Papa, PAY attention!" Gabriel roared.

They all went silent for a few moments. Rachel could feel Mary swaying from side to side behind her.

"Artie, then," she said softly, and Gabriel whirled to stare at her. "If you won't release Kurt, and Mr. Hummel won't go without him, then you need to let Artie go. He's in a wheelchair. What good can he do you?"

"And it still makes you look more merciful," Mercedes agreed.

Rachel heard Mary grunt behind her and resisted the urge to shoot the woman a glare. Gabriel stroked his chin over his ski mask, and paced. Rachel smiled encouragingly over at Artie, and he looked anxiously back at her.

Finally, Gabriel stomped over to Artie and yanked him away from the table, dragging him, chair and all, to the lobby door and shoving him out carelessly. He slammed the door shut after Artie, and then walked back to the rest of them, tapping his finger on the side of his gun. He glared at them all, but said nothing, only leaned against the edge of the table where the phone sat, and waited.

Rachel smiled triumphantly over at Mercedes, but dropped her head quickly when one of the guards noticed.

Gabriel flicked on and off the safety on his gun - or at least that's what Rachel assumed it was. She wasn't very familiar with weaponry, but as far as she knew, it wasn't that easy to flick the hammer back and forth, so it must've been the safety. Maybe.

She shook her head of it. Artie was free. Quinn would be so pleased. She knew the two had bonded while Quinn was wheelchair bound, and he'd be one of the first people she wanted out of this situation. Mercedes, too. If they got a chance to continue negotiation, anyway, but how on earth could they manipulate Gabriel into doing it?

How would Quinn manipulate him?

Before Rachel could ponder it any further, Gabriel was picking up the phone, too impatient to wait for them to call back this time. He was starting to sweat now.

"I've given you your hostage," he said irritably. He stood up to pace again. "The groom is still unconscious, and I agreed to release one hostage to you, no more than that, and the whole of their little family refuses to go without the others as it is. You'll have to give me something much better to account for the release of six hostages." He paused, eyebrow quirking. "Very well. I want Robert Miller for my defense. You call and get him on my case, I'll release another one."

Gabriel nodded, more satisfied this time, and hung up, his smile quirking his lips. He started walking between the tables again. "Who next, hm?" He stepped around Sam, briefly aiming at him. "Sam I am? Mm, no, I suspect you won't be moved without the Magnificent Mercedes." Sam dropped his head, and Gabriel passed by Mr. Hummel and Noah to Rachel's table, eyeing Ms. Pillsbury. "We may yet need a counselor here tonight, wouldn't you agree, Emma? And I fear the mighty Mad Mike has a similar attachment as Sam, to one of our ladies." He tapped his gun against his chin.

"Just pick someone," Finn blurted, and Gabriel passed by Mrs. Hummel to the next table.

"Now, Finn, surely you understand that these things have to be thought out reasonably, like so. You won't be leaving without our Princess Rachel, or, I suspect, dear mommy Carole, and nor will our groom be going without his pretty Kurt." Gabriel pressed a hand to Tina and Mercedes' shoulders each. "And while I'm sure your men would be very pleased to have you out of here, I'd hate to split up a happy couple that way." He patted them and grinned across at Finn. "You see? I can be decent."

"You're a psycho," Finn said uneasily.

Gabriel aimed briefly at him, smiled, and turned to the next table. "Oh, let's see. Weeny Willy, while I'd love to let you go, it just seems...so unfair to let an older man like yourself go when there are so many young people to choose from," he said, gesturing around the room. "Like Miss Julie here. Ah, but then, she has nothing to live for now that what's-her-name is gone, and we need someone who truly values the gift of being set free. Which leaves Nightmare Nick."

He smiled. Nick looked up at him hopefully, and Gabriel leaned up against the table to look over them all in the silence. He started whistling the Jeopardy tune.

#

The phone rang after another half an hour, at least. Mary brought them all fresh water in the meantime, and though Rachel's first instinct was to spit it at her, she drank her first glass down shortly. By the time the phone rang, she was halfway through a second glass, and then she sat up quickly to listen in, as Gabriel answered, "Well?"

His smile said it all. "Good. Now, I want full media access to my case, and a guarantee that my manifesto will be published." He paused to listen. "Don't worry, you'll get your hostages. One at a time. One will be coming out shortly, but before I release any others, I want your guarantee."

He nodded toward the burliest of the guards, and the man marched over to Nick and pulled him up out of his chair to drag him to the door.

"Yes, he'll be coming out any moment. Now give me some time to deliberate on who should go next. We've made a very good case for each of the rest of the hostages to stay so far, it'll be fascinating breaking that down."

He hung up, and spun his gun on his finger. Rachel frowned. He was getting cocky again, getting what he wanted from the police and bargaining with their lives.

"Let's see, let's see...who should we let go?" He whistled, walking around and through their tables. Mary nodded down toward Mercedes when he crossed through. "She's an option," he conceded, and hummed. "But then, so is Miss Terrified Tina. See, it would be so much easier on you all if you weren't so attached to one another. But if I release one, I have to release another, and then before you know it, I'm letting you all loose and I've got nothing left to barter with."

"Why don't you just tell the police everything you want and let us all go?" Mrs. Hummel cried softly, then immediately covered her mouth.

Gabriel headed over toward her with a lazy smile. "Tell me, how eager to be in custody would you be, Carole?"

She bit on her lip. Mary hovered closer again.

"You have a bad habit of not answering my questions, darling."

She sighed, and Rachel frowned in sympathy. "Just let my sons and my husband go. Please."

"Oh, your sons? Which ones? The son, stepson, stepson-in-law?"

"All of them. They are all my sons and I don't want any of them to die, can't you understand at least that level of human emotion?!"

Gabriel pointed his gun at her, and then everything happened at once.

Finn lunged and knocked Gabriel's aim off. A shot was fired, and the lights went out.

Glass broke and in through the high windows near the ceiling came canisters that let loose a fog when they landed, a fog that filled the room until Rachel couldn't see a thing.

She heard shots, and someone knocked her out of her chair, so she crawled, trying to feel her way somewhere safe - to a door, under a table, even to a fellow hostage.

But she couldn't hear anything. There were only shots being fired, and bodies hitting the ground, and people struggling with each other, and a few shouts.

She thought to get to Kurt, to shield him, but there was no way to find anyone in this fog and darkness. She didn't even know which way to turn.

Someone lifted her up off the ground and Rachel could do nothing but hold onto them for dear life as whoever it was ran with her, and she heard a faint ding before she hit the floor and whoever had been carrying her climbed on top of her, and then the explosion hit.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Rachel's stomach lurched, but thankfully, she had nothing to throw up anymore. She was flat to the floor, and though her ears were ringing badly, she could hear the person on top of her panting, but nothing else. The person started to sit up, and Rachel pushed herself up off the floor as well, turning to thank them, to see where they were, but what she found was a woman in a ski mask and a heavy black jacket - Mary.

She shoved the woman away and scrambled backward, but immediately hit a wall, and cried out, "Stay away from me!"

Mary moved toward her, and Rachel scooted back to lift her legs up and kick her away if needed, but then she was saying, "No, no, hold on" and lifted off the ski mask.

Blonde hair fell down the sides of her face and hazel eyes stared Rachel down, and Rachel was crying out for completely new reasons when she grabbed onto Quinn around the neck so fiercely she nearly knocked her to the floor all over again. Quinn's arms went around her waist, and Rachel burrowed into the sweet-smelling blonde hair, squeezing her for all she was worth.

"Oh my God, Quinn? You're alive, you're alive!" she cheered softly. She felt Quinn breathe out against her ear before her arms tightened and she started to pull back. Rachel instantly found her cheeks with her hands instead, looking at her with a happy grin. "I thought we'd never see you again, how are you alive? Are you okay? You have to stop scaring me like this, last time you almost gave me a heart attack and now I thought for sure I - " She bit on her own lip, petting Quinn's hair away from her face, while Quinn held her arms loosely. "Just don't do it again."

Quinn smiled a little then and stroked her thumbs on Rachel's arms. "I'll try not."

Rachel beamed and threw herself back into Quinn's arms, planting a firm kiss on her cheek. "So how? How did you survive? Is Santana okay?"

She felt a chuckle beneath her ear before Quinn's voice vibrated in her chest. "Yes, Santana and Brittany are alive and well, they're with the cops."

"That's how they found out about the detonator," Rachel said, lifting her head for confirmation.

Quinn nodded. "Santana and I knocked Mary out once we got an opportunity. We fired the shots to make sure Gabriel didn't know we'd escaped. Neither of us wanted to leave without getting everyone out, but, I convinced her they'd realize if Mary suddenly turned into a short Latina," she added wryly.

Rachel smiled. "So you decided to risk your life all over again by coming back into the room with the crazy people with guns?"

Quinn chuckled, dropping her head briefly. "They'd have realized sooner or later that Mary wasn't coming back and that we were gone. Besides, there were still people I wasn't willing to leave behind with the crazy people with guns. And I also knew this...was our best shot of getting the detonator."

Rachel was suddenly reminded of the ringing in her ears and rubbed at one of them, watching Quinn's expression drop. "You didn't get it?"

She shook her head. "No. Gabriel...had it again, or had it the whole time, I'm not sure. I tried to stop him, but he hit the button before I could get there. That's why I went for you, I knew I couldn't get you out before the building went up, but I had seen - " she swallowed " - that the elevator was on the first floor when I was helping Sam find the supplies for the surgery, so…"

Rachel nodded in understanding, smiling a little less now as their situation sank in. "How did you even find me? It was so dark and chaotic...I didn't even want to stand up in case...with all the shooting."

Quinn's lips parted, but it took her a moment to answer, "I just did."

Rachel smiled slightly in answer before she glanced around the elevator. It was dark there, too, but a light from somewhere above them was still flickering - perhaps an emergency generator, she thought, but she was distracted from wondering any further by Quinn's movements over to the elevator panel. She flipped it open to pull out the phone, testing the signal before sighing.

"Phones are still out, and the cops are probably using whatever power the generator is offering," she sighed, looking around. "We could try to open the hatch...but we risk debris falling in on us… We don't have any way to pry the doors open, either."

Rachel swallowed thickly. "It felt like we dropped...do you think we're-we're in the basement? Do you think we're stuck?"

Quinn shrugged her shoulders after a moment. "For now… The cops would've called in the fire crews as soon as they knew there was a risk of explosion, so we'll...just have to wait for them to find us and dig us out." She closed her eyes, taking a breath.

"The explosion, do you-do you think the building is burning?"

Quinn shifted on her knees to face Rachel properly, speaking slowly, "If it was, the fire crews are putting it out right now, but I don't...think it is. I don't smell anything, no smoke or gas. We can still breathe, you-you're breathing okay, right?"

Rachel nodded her head rapidly.

Quinn blew out a breath and nodded back. "But there's no way of knowing how much debris is up there. Or how long it'll take for them to find us." She swallowed.

Rachel chewed on her lip for a moment, fiddling with the hem of the rose red groomsmaid dress Kurt had picked out weeks ago for her to wear at his side. She slumped back against the elevator wall, the euphoria of finding Quinn still alive wearing off to worry about all her other friends, most especially Kurt. He'd still been unconscious when Finn jumped Gabriel and the lights went out.

In a way she'd been thankful that he'd been out of it throughout this whole fiasco. He didn't have to feel the pain or watch the people he loved being terrorized and murdered. Now she wished he'd been awake. Enough to crawl closer to the door, at the very least. At least the others had a fighting chance. The others were still able-bodied. Unless they'd been shot in the haze.

"Do you think...anyone made it out?" she murmured, glancing over at Quinn.

The blonde was still looking around, as if trying to find a way out despite everything she'd just said, but she looked back down to Rachel quickly. She sighed.

"It's hard to say. The cops' priority going in would be to get as many hostages out as possible before the explosion, but, you know they had Gabriel's men to fight and try to keep contained. It was already dark in there, you add tear gas to the mix and it gets even harder to tell who's a hostage and who's an enemy."

Rachel's eyes went wide. "What-what if they shot someone? What if they couldn't tell and they just fired and - "

"Rachel," Quinn soothed, scooting herself closer again. "No one got shot by the cops. They're trained professionals, they aren't just going to shoot without thinking first. Chances are, they got as many people out as they could and weren't that concerned about exchanging fire with them."

She nodded slowly, taking a steadying breath. "What about Kurt?"

"They knew someone was wounded badly, enough to need surgery, so yeah, he was probably a top priority, but it's hard to say whether they got him out, or if they could even find him."

Rachel nearly chewed through her lip, her eyes stinging already at the idea of Kurt just lying there on the floor, maybe being kicked around or shot by blind feet and poor aim and unaware of everything that was happening to him.

"Rachel, I'm-I'm sure _someone_ got him out, okay? Mr. Hummel and Finn and Blaine were not just going to let him lie there, someone got him," Quinn assured steadily.

"Oh, God, Mr. Hummel. Oh, and Noah, he was so beaten, he was so out of it, Quinn, what if - "

"Hey, hey, listen." Quinn grabbed her hands, and Rachel met her gaze tearfully. "I know you're scared, and worried about everyone. But the only person you can help right now is you. So try to stay calm, okay?"

Rachel tried to nod, but there was so much worry in Quinn's face, despite everything she was saying. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pursed in that unhappy way of hers, and there was a glow of sweat on her brow. Her palms were sweaty, too. She was scared, too, and Rachel wasn't helping matters by freaking out.

She breathed in, and out, and nodded, squeezing Quinn's hands. "Okay."

Quinn smiled thinly, and then took her hands away, shrugging out of the heavy jacket down to the flannel shirt Mary had been wearing earlier. She flapped the shirt against her neck a few times, trying to cool down, and Rachel fiddled with the necklace around her wrist, twisting the knot she'd made undone. She reluctantly held the cross out to Quinn once she had it loose.

"I got this off of him, after I thought you were..." she admitted.

Quinn stared for a moment before taking the cross carefully from Rachel's fingers. "Thank you." Her lips twitched in a small smile, and she examined the broken clasp.

"No. Thank you," Rachel corrected, scooting herself a little closer. "You not only made sure everyone got through the night without wetting themselves or dying of dehydration, but you helped me stay calm, you helped me to think clearly when I was going crazy. _And_ you saved me. _And_ Kurt."

Quinn raised her hand briefly. "You don't...have to keep thanking me for Kurt, I just got Mrs. Hummel to him, that's all."

"It's so much more than that, though, if you hadn't - "

"I didn't do it for him, okay?" Quinn looked up to her through her eyelashes, shaking her head. "I'm glad if he's okay, but…"

Rachel tilted her head, hesitating. "If not him, then…"

Quinn shrugged, fiddling with the necklace chain. "He was going to shoot you."

Rachel's lips melted into a smile all over again, filled with a warmth she couldn't quite define as anything but happiness, and gratitude. She scooted herself even closer and promptly glued herself to Quinn's side, wrapping her arms around the thin waist and nuzzling against her shoulder. She chose to ignore Quinn's huge sigh, and only focus on the part where she wrapped an arm around Rachel's shoulder in turn, snuggling even closer.

"Sometimes I still can't believe it when you do things like this," she mumbled against Quinn's shirt.

"Like what?" Quinn's thumb was stroking over the point of Rachel's shoulder, and she smiled.

"Like this. Like the train tickets, like...arguing against me marrying Finn when you knew I wasn't ready. Like saving my life," she listed lazily. "Twice."

Quinn peered down at her, holding the cross in her palm now. "Why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why...can't you believe it?"

"Because I waited so long for you to care about me that sometimes I forget you do," she admitted with a shrug. "But it feels really, _really_ good when you remind me." She beamed up at her.

Quinn's cheeks took on a pink hue that had nothing to do with how hot she seemed to be getting, and Rachel giggled impishly before sitting up.

"Okay, I'll stop torturing you." She smiled over at Quinn nonetheless. "I know you don't really care for gestures of affection. But I will thank you one more time, for trying to get me out of there, even though I didn't really cooperate. That's how you got Brittany out, isn't it? You picked a fight with her on purpose?"

Quinn nodded, rubbing down her shin now that Rachel was no longer completing her side. "Yeah. I got her to look at me and once we looked at each other, I could see she understood, and I knew I could get her out of there. I tried...with you and Mercedes, but…"

"But we wouldn't look at you." Rachel grimaced. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's okay. It's probably better you didn't, they would've started to catch on eventually if I had kept it up, and that could've put you or Mercedes in even more danger."

"And you," Rachel pointed out. "Is that why that guard...Daniel, said he shot Brittany?"

"I guess." Quinn shrugged. "It's impossible to know what he was thinking, exactly, but he wasn't at peace with the situation, once it started."

Rachel sighed. "At least one of them had a conscience."

"It's easy to get mixed up in a situation like that, someone charismatic comes in and directs your frustration and puts you down a path you can't come back from," she mumbled, fiddling with the strings on the boots.

Rachel nodded, then bit her lip. "That's not you, you know. You're not stuck like that."

Quinn shook her head. "No. And I try not to dwell, but sometimes, I think about things I've said, or done…"

"Like now?"

Quinn nodded confirmation. "I can't help but look at these people and think about my father. About how easily he might've been one of them, and how easily I might've joined them."

"You didn't want to disappoint him. There's nothing wrong with that." Quinn gave her a skeptical eye, and Rachel frowned. "There's not. It's not your fault you didn't know his ideals were wrong, because he was the one who taught you those ideals. What matters is that you know _now_ that he was wrong."

Quinn seemed to consider this for a moment before she nodded. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am, I'm Rachel Berry," she teased, and the effort earned her a faint smile.

"It's nice to see you confident about something again," she returned.

Rachel smiled. "I feel safe with you. So I can be brave again."

Quinn's hand covered her own, if only for a moment, and Rachel beamed, until she realized how clammy that touch had been. She took a closer look at Quinn, at her sweating, glowing face, and realized how terrified her companion still seemed to be. Rachel reached out for her arm and frowned over at her.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn looked about to give a standard 'I'm fine', but she hesitated a moment more, and Rachel pressed her with another gentle hand, pulling her blonde hair back from her face.

"I don't...I just don't like...small spaces," she said quietly, and Rachel realized.

"Oh, God, that's right. You're claustrophobic."

Quinn eyed her. "How did you…?"

"Finn mentioned it once. What can I do?"

Quinn just shook her head, and Rachel sighed before adjusting her dress skirt and settling up against Quinn's side again, without trapping her in a hug this time, but staying close.

"Tell me something. Tell me...what you were thinking about when Gabriel was about to shoot you and Santana," she prodded, and Quinn rubbed her eyes with one hand.

"I don't know, I don't… I was just thinking...how Beth would be too young to remember me if I died. And you know, maybe it was a good thing if she didn't know about her crazy mom."

"You're not crazy," Rachel interjected, setting her chin on Quinn's shoulder. "What else?"

"I didn't want to die. I didn't want Santana to die, and I kept thinking...what would Brittany do without us?" She sighed. "And I thought about my mom, and Mercedes, and you. And how I needed...to make sure you were all okay and all happy, before I could go." She seemed lost in thought for a moment, before she turned her gaze to Rachel. "What about you? What did you...think about, when you thought…?"

Rachel shifted against her, stroking the flannel sleeve. "Well, mostly I was worried about Kurt. It still seems so unreal, the idea of him being _shot_. At his _wedding_. And I can't...help but feel like I should've tried harder to get him to hold it somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Wait until we got to New York."

"Nowhere's safe, there are people everywhere who feel that way just like there are people everywhere who don't."

"But they won't always act on it," Rachel pointed out and sighed as she rested her head on Quinn's shoulder again.

"You couldn't have known they would. Nor could Kurt, or anybody. Either way, what happened out there has nothing to do with you," Quinn said, and her tone brooked no argument.

Rachel shrugged. "I just wish we could've seen it coming."

"We all do," Quinn soothed, and Rachel couldn't help but smile a little when her arm went back around her shoulders, her brunette hair being brushed away from her neck.

Rachel peeked up at her abruptly. "You know this wasn't your fault, too, right?"

Quinn nodded, after a moment. "Yeah. I just...I wish I'd been able to get the detonator, that's all. Then this whole explosion would never have happened and the cops could've just gotten everyone out when they were ready, and…"

"Finn jumped Gabriel. Not you. His gun went off, not yours. You didn't set the police off."

"Yeah, but that wasn't the first time he threatened Finn's mom, and I knew he was getting aggravated, I just - "

"Okay, you can't tell me that this was all outside my control and then claim responsibility for it all. Because it's not. Don't minimize what you did, Quinn. You risked your life, multiple times, to keep us all safe. But you couldn't have stopped what happened in there," Rachel said firmly and squeezed Quinn's bicep. "You were - you _are_ amazing. Okay?"

Quinn sniffed a little, but nodded. "Oh-kay."

"Good." Rachel smiled, nuzzling Quinn's shoulder again. "I wish I knew what was going on up there. I mean, if everyone's all right."

"Me, too."

"How are you feeling?" She nudged Quinn's side. "Or should I not have asked? That probably just reminds you to be scared, doesn't it? I'm a terrible support system." She pouted.

"Better. I feel-I feel better," Quinn half-chuckled out, though she briefly rubbed her chest. "Thank you." She looked down at Rachel with a small smile, and it was returned with a beam.

"Have I told you yet how glad I am you're not dead?"

Quinn chuckled again, and Rachel grinned at the sound.

"I'm...really glad you're alive, too."

"Thanks to you."

Quinn ducked her head, and Rachel couldn't help but kiss her cheek again.

When Quinn looked up at her again, it was without a smile, though she wasn't quite frowning either. In fact, Rachel couldn't remember ever seeing Quinn's face quite like it was at the moment. Her eyes were practically sparkling, but her lips were set in a soft line, and Rachel's heart decided promptly to rise up into her throat and pound out like the ringing that had been in them earlier.

Something close to a thought, a wondering, occurred to Rachel then, and before she knew it, she had leaned closer. A moment later, Quinn tilted her head down, and Rachel just barely took in a breath before she found Quinn's soft mouth, and her eyes slowly shut. Warmth spread up from her abdomen to her cheeks, and down all the way to her toes, making them curl in her high heels as she leaned further into Quinn's side.

Quinn welcomed her, squeezing her closer under her arm, so that Rachel felt snug and safe in the embrace, never snugger or safer. She was barely aware of Quinn doing something with her other hand, getting rid of the necklace she supposed, so that she could stroke Rachel's cheek with tender fingers. Rachel immediately snaked her arms about Quinn's waist, pulling herself nearer to the source of comfort and pleasure, the source she felt slipping away when Quinn's lips parted from her own.

Rachel opened her eyes quickly, despite wishing to bask in the feeling of buzzing, tingling lips, so that she could read Quinn's expression. Her stomach dropped as she read the uncertainty there, and she knew what Quinn was going to say. But she didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think at all, she wanted Quinn to keep making her feel good, better. She lifted her finger quickly to Quinn's lips, as the blonde drew in a breath.

"Don't say it. Don't say anything. Just kiss me," Rachel begged softly, tracing the pink lips beneath her finger.

For a moment, she thought Quinn would refuse to obey, to bring _it_ up anyway, the reality outside their elevator. But instead she nodded, and ran her thumb across Rachel's cheek, and bent down to kiss her again. Rachel melted into her, holding onto her waist tightly while Quinn coaxed her into a bubble of warmth and sweet caresses.

Quinn was just as superb a kisser as Rachel always – privately – imagined she would be, even more so because before when she considered pink lips, it was always just a brief flicker of a fantasy. This was real, this was Quinn kissing and kissing her to eternity, and Quinn drawing her closer to the firmness of her body, and Quinn stroking fingers into her hair and around the nape of her neck, urging her to open her mouth.

Her tongue was a delightfully minty fresh invasion, inviting a moan from Rachel's throat that she couldn't have contained if she'd wanted to. She drew her hands from around Quinn's waist to cup her pretty face closer, heart pounding in her chest once she lowered her fingers down to the first button on the flannel shirt. She pried it open carefully and slipped a hand inside the shirt, stroking Quinn's smooth skin.

Quinn didn't object, so Rachel felt brave enough to pop another button loose, a brief flicker of panic in the back of her mind when Quinn's lips parted from hers, but within seconds she was kissing Rachel's neck. Her head dropped backward to the sensation, gentle lips coasting on her skin while sharp teeth pinched little patches between, tongue soothing the sting shortly afterward. She managed to slip one more button loose before Quinn sat up on her knees and dropped her hands to Rachel's waist, urging her to turn as Quinn herself slid behind her.

Rachel was quick to obey, leaning back into Quinn's arms as lips came down on her neck again, and rocked her head back against Quinn's solid shoulder. Strong, pale hands slid up from her stomach to slide up her back, and draw the zipper of her dress down, while pink lips played with Rachel's earlobe, sucking lightly. Quinn's knees pressed in on either side of her hips, while her hands pushed the dress down Rachel's arms. Rachel was quick to help, pushing it down to pool around her waist with the skirt of her dress, with a ragged breath and a shiver.

Quinn paused at her ear, her arms wrapping around Rachel's waist while she breathed in her ear, "Too cold?"

Rachel shook her head rapidly, leaning her head up to catch Quinn's lips. "Hot."

Quinn's mouth was finally on hers again at the word, and Rachel pushed herself up into those perfect lips, curling one hand up into short blonde hair, while the other pressed one of Quinn's hands further up the expanse of her belly. Before she knew it, Quinn was kneading her palms over her perky breasts, encased in a lacy red bra to match the dress, biting her jaw lightly as she slipped her thumbs in to rub over her nipples. Rachel had never experienced anything like it.

And then it all came to an unsatisfying and unceremonious stop, as someone shouted from above, "Is there anyone down there?"

Quinn's hands and lips were gone before Rachel was even close to ready, but were hastily helping Rachel cover up again, even as she shouted away from Rachel's ear.

"Yes! Can you hear us?"

"We hear you!"

Rachel swallowed, leaning forward to let Quinn zip her up.

"Okay, we're in the elevator, we think it fell to the basement! There's two of us in here!" Quinn stroked Rachel's arms.

"Are either of you injured?"

Quinn peered around Rachel's shoulder, and she shook her head.

"No, we're both fine!"

"Can we get your names?"

Quinn scratched her head briefly. "Yeah, uh, Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry."

"Okay, we're going to send somebody to let the police know you've been found. But listen, there's a lot of debris up here, so sit tight, we're gonna get you out!"

"Okay!"

Rachel blew out a breath, half-tearful, half-relieved, as she dropped her head to her knees. Quinn lowered herself back down on her heels behind her, and Rachel nearly sobbed at the feeling of her arms wrapping around her all over again, in comfort now.

"You're gonna be okay," Quinn assured her softly, and Rachel nodded, offering her a tearful smile as she lifted her head.

"Thanks to you," she murmured, and Quinn bit her bottom lip, before taking a breath, and Rachel put a finger to her lips again. "Don't. Don't say anything. Just hold me?"

Quinn's hesitation didn't last very long, and soon Rachel found herself back in much the same position as before. Leaning back against Quinn with those strong arms around her waist, feeling safer and snugger than ever.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Almost the second Quinn was unhooked from the harness the fire crews had used to lift first Rachel and then herself out, she was nearly tackled back into the pit of the elevator by a short Latina, and then a tall blonde. Both Santana and Brittany squeezed the air out of her, and Quinn couldn't help a small laugh as she peered between their shoulders, beyond them to where Rachel's blood pressure was now being taken.

Brown eyes briefly met hers, but Quinn was distracted again when she felt a swat upside the head before being led out over the wreckage left behind by the explosion between her two best friends.

"Don't ever pull this shit again," Santana scolded. "We thought you actually freakin' died this time."

"We were so worried," Brittany agreed.

Quinn nodded her acknowledgment, but saved answers for after the EMTs stopped scrambling about. At the moment, one was coaxing her to sit on the open back end of an ambulance to be checked out the same way Rachel was being checked one ambulance over. She sat up straight, breathing when she was told, and trying to ignore Santana's pacing and Brittany's fidgeting when the EMT strapped her arm up to check her pressure.

"I'm okay. Both of you just relax," she spoke up, once she was free of the strap and the EMTs. She hopped up, adjusting the flannel shirt, and sighed out, "Right now I just want to get to the hospital. Do we know anything yet?"

Santana didn't answer, staring instead at the middle of Quinn's chest. She looked to Brittany instead, with a cocked eyebrow.

Brittany shook her head. "They're still looking through the mess. But Sam and Blaine got Kurt out before the explosion," she said, thinking, "and they found Mercedes and Kurt's dad and Puck and Finn and they're all at the hospital. Oh, and Ms. Pillsbury and Tina and Mike – they all got out, too, the cops got them out, anyway. But they still haven't found Finn's mom or Mr. Schue or that Julie girl yet."

Quinn swallowed. "What about Mercedes, is she okay?"

Brittany hesitated, glancing at Santana once or twice.

But Santana's only answer was, "Lose a few buttons in there? Your bra's showing."

Quinn glanced down at herself briefly before hastily doing up two of the buttons Rachel had loosed. "I got hot. Santana. Mercedes. _Is she okay_?"

Santana frowned skeptically. And then shook her head. "She looked bad, Q. Really bad."

Quinn lost her breath. "We need to get to the hospital."

"Your mom's waiting outside the scene lines, she'll drive us," Santana assured her, and pressed a hand to her shoulder to usher her away.

Quinn glanced over her shoulder, to Rachel, but her view was abruptly blocked by Tina and Mike. She frowned and hurried on after Brittany and Santana.

Just as the two of them had crushed her to a lack of breath, Quinn's mother grabbed onto her so tightly and for so long she started to worry she was never, ever going to let her go, let alone let her leave the house ever again, or go to Yale in the fall. No, she was going to be under house arrest for some time, she thought.

She at least managed to stop the hugging – nice as it felt to be held by her mother after that nightmare of a night – by grunting, "Mom. Please, I want to check on Mercedes, we can't really do that if you don't let me go."

Finally, her mom's grip loosened, and kisses ensued, until she apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know, you want to get to her, but when they said they couldn't find you… Oh, darling."

She petted Quinn's hair, and Quinn indulged her for one more moment before she kissed her mother's cheek and ushered her toward the car. "I'm okay. Let's go. Please."

Her knee bounced on the carpeted floor the entire drive, but no one told her to stop it. Not even Santana. They drove in silence instead, with Santana and Brittany holding onto each other, as Quinn imagined they'd been doing since she got Brittany out of the hotel, in the backseat, and Quinn's mom looking at her now and then with deep love in her eyes.

As grateful as Quinn was for it, for the love her mother expressed, it didn't ease the pounding of her heart in her ears, or the thoughts spinning in her head, making her dizzy with ideas of loss. They hadn't gotten Mercedes out. The damn cops didn't do it. Sam didn't do it. _Quinn_ didn't do it.

Instead she had been inside, alone, while a building exploded around her, and now she was hurt. And she'd looked bad. Really bad. Quinn didn't know exactly what that meant, and it allowed her mind to jump to the worst possible scenarios.

Quinn didn't know what she'd do without Mercedes. Perhaps she wasn't very good at showing it, and hadn't even been a very good friend to Mercedes in the past couple of years, but when she'd been pregnant, Mercedes had been the one person she could rely on. The one person who not only tried to understand what she couldn't grasp immediately, but who didn't judge her, who in fact supported her decisions. And who offered her not just a place to stay, but something of a home.

She leapt out of the car before her mother had even finished parking it, amazingly close to the building despite it being flooded with emergency vehicles and the like, and she was the first person to make it inside the bustling ER. People were everywhere. Not many of the wounded anymore, that Quinn could see. As Gabriel had said, the ones in the lobby were a gift after all, something she had found out on her trip with Sam for surgery supplies. He had let the police have them.

So the majority of the dead and critically injured were already processed and in rooms. But the place was still filled to the brim, with personnel, and with people asking after loved ones. It was all the staff could do to deal with the crowd.

Quinn felt a hand grab her own and turned briefly to find Santana clinging to her, nodding for her to lead the way – Brittany and Quinn's mom were holding on in turn. Quinn started off instantly, threading through the people toward the back hallways, where it would be less congested and she could track down their people. Mercedes in particular, of course.

Santana let go of her hand once they were deep into the hospital, pacing down the nearly empty halls - save for a few doctors and nurses - and checking charts on their way for familiar names. At the end of the first hallway, another two led off from it, and Quinn was beginning to lose complete hope until a nurse started to come toward them.

"Excuse me, can I help you ladies?"

"Yes. Can you tell us where a patient is? Mercedes Jones, we're friends of hers," Quinn burst out, but the nurse had already begun to shake her head before she finished.

"I'm sorry. You'll have to ask at the ER desk."

Quinn gritted her teeth in frustration. "We've _tried_ that. Please. She was one of the hostages tonight, and so were we. I need to know if she's okay."

The nurse hesitated, looking down at the chart in her hands for a moment, before sighing out reluctantly, "Wait here, I'll see what I can find out."

Quinn felt her mom's hand on her shoulder and turned to face the other three, smiling in relief as her mom grinned at her.

"I'm sure she's going to be all right, honey," she assured sweetly. "You'll get to see her soon."

She rubbed Quinn's shoulder, and she nodded in relief, clasping her hand over her mother's. Santana and Brittany offered small smiles of support beyond her, leaning against the wall while they waited, and waited, for the nurse to return.

Quinn started to pace, wall to wall, only stopping when a doctor or nurse passed through.

The other three leaned in various poses against one wall, watching her, until finally the nurse clicked her heels back in their direction, shuffling papers.

"I'm sorry, we're really booked here. Your friend is in 31A, on the third floor, do you need me to take you there?" she asked politely.

Quinn shook her head rapidly. "No, no, thank you so much."

She whipped around before she could think to say anything else, or even hear the nurse's soft 'you're welcome' before she was flying to the stairwell and up, up, up to the third floor. She checked the first number on the first door she came to and sped down the hallway toward a familiar blond figure ten doors away. The boots screeched on the floor when he hit the wall with his fist and sobbed, "Christ!"

Her stomach dropped. She took a heavy step closer, then another, dragging her feet toward him, as he fisted his hair in agony.

"Sam?"

He looked up at her abruptly, tears streaking down his cheeks, and dropped his hands to his sides helplessly.

"Am I seeing ghosts now?" he muttered, and she shook her head.

"Santana and I took Mary out and i-it's just a long story." She stopped and moved closer to him. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam swallowed and swiped his nose furiously. "Well, you're alive." He sniffed, a tear falling over the edge again, giving way to the rest. "But she's not."

Quinn stopped, shook her head, and then walked the rest of the way to him, past him, though he reached out to catch her waist. She peered into the room and saw only a white sheet over the form of a body. She shook her head again.

"No. _No_."

Sam's hands grabbed at her shoulders, as she dropped a hand to the door knob. "No. Quinn, you don't want to go in there."

He pulled her back against him, and she shook her head once more, her eyes burning as she felt her heels drag against the floor, as Sam took her away. Until finally she felt herself come back to life, and fought Sam's embrace, pushing him off of her and choking out a sob that had been stuck deep in her throat.

"_No_."

"Quinn." It was her mother this time, coaxing gently, and Quinn covered her face with both hands. "Darling, come here." She stepped forward a few paces, opening her arms, and Quinn dropped her head as her mother leaned up to hold her carefully, cooing to her as the tears rushed freely, and her ribcage ached with effort, "Shh. I've got you."

For a moment, Quinn allowed her mind to drift to holding onto Rachel, and breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair.

#

The coroners came and took Mercedes down to the morgue. By then, Quinn had calmed considerably, but not enough to be moved from a seat outside Mercedes' room. Sam couldn't take being there anymore. He'd been crumpled up sobbing since pulling Quinn away from the door, and as soon as Mercedes was gone, he left, too.

Quinn's mom stayed right next to her, though. Brittany had fallen asleep in the bench across from them almost immediately after sitting down, but Santana went to get refreshments and more information. By the time she returned, two coffee cups in hand, a janitor was cleaning Mercedes' room, and Quinn's mother had dozed off next to her.

Santana sat on Quinn's other side, nudging her hand with the Styrofoam cup. "Drink. It'll suck, but it's better than nothing."

Quinn sighed, but took it anyway, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What'd you find out?"

"They found the other three," Santana began. "Mrs. Hummel and Mr. Schuester are banged up, but they'll live. Julie was DOA. Finn was shot in the arm and Puck has a skull fracture. And Kurt's alive."

Quinn peered at her in something akin to amazement, though she couldn't quite muster the actual feeling. "And his dad?"

"He had a heart attack during the explosion. He's dead, too," Santana said simply, then sipped at her cup. "Total death count so far is eleven, from what they're saying downstairs. A lot more critically injured." She sighed. "Anyway, everyone's here, except for Sam. Ms. Pillsbury is with Mr. Schuester, last I checked. Tina and Mike were visiting Puck when I dropped by."

"Is he conscious?"

Santana smirked wryly. "Yeah. But drugged the hell out – you should see him. He was talking to or about – or possibly both – butterflies."

Quinn rubbed her forehead, but said nothing.

Santana blew out a sigh again. "Blaine and Rachel are with Kurt."

"He awake yet?"

Santana nodded. "They have him started on transfusions. He's still kind of out of it, though. They haven't told him about his dad or Mercedes."

"Good," Quinn said shortly.

Santana paused, hesitating. "Some of the guards are here, too. On another floor, they're handcuffed and have police guards now. But they're going to need us to give a description to identify Gabriel. If they even have him."

"Right. They'll be wanting a statement." Quinn set down the coffee cup untouched on the floor next to her chair and covered her face again, rubbing up and down as if she could wash off all the exhaustion and pain. "How did Rachel seem?" She stared at the juxtaposition of four tiles.

Santana shrugged. "Pretty upset. Unsurprisingly. You realize this is crazy, right?"

Quinn looked up at her sharply.

"Sitting outside an empty hospital room, waiting for nothing?" She sipped her coffee. "Unless you're just avoiding something else. Either way, you can't sit here forever."

"I'm not. I'm just…"

Santana reached out and kneaded roughly into Quinn's shoulder, eliciting a grunt.

"Don't worry about it. We'll just sit here until the next patient comes in and dies," she soothed, and Quinn flattened her palms against her face.

"Next time this happens, I'm letting you get shot," she said evenly, but Santana only smiled at her.

A pair of steadily approaching footsteps paused nearby, and Quinn looked up to find a police officer tilting his cap down at them. He glanced to the room across the hall, and back to them before he murmured, "I'm sorry to intrude. Were any of you involved in the hostage crisis tonight?"

"We were all hostages," Santana scoffed. "Except the old lady."

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I'm sorry." He paused, looking between them. "Would you happen to know where a Quinn might be?"

She lifted her head. "I'm Quinn…"

He straightened up. "One of the suspects in the takeover has been asking to see you. You aren't required to come, but the doctors tell me he's not going to last much longer, so I thought I'd see if you were willing."

"Fuck no," Santana scoffed.

Quinn pursed her lips. "Was he wearing a Carhartt when he was brought in?"

"What does it matter?"

"I think so, why?" the officer said, ignoring Santana.

Quinn pushed herself up from her seat. "I'll see him."

The officer nodded and turned to head back down the hallway, gesturing for her to come with him.

"Q," Santana objected, but Quinn only waved a dismissive hand and followed the officer.

The guards were being kept three floors above the victims, and as they passed by the rooms, Quinn could see that Santana had been right. They were all handcuffed to their beds, and two police guards were outside every door. Without the ski masks and in hospital gowns, it was near impossible to tell which was which, though a particularly muscular man she could guess – Raphael.

She looked away sharply and followed the officer into the next room, where Daniel was being kept. He was without his ski mask, too, wrapped up in bandages and casts, and hooked up to a machine to help him breathe.

"You have five minutes," the officer said, sternly now, and stepped just outside, while Quinn wandered closer to the bed, frowning down at Daniel.

He lifted his hand up, to pull away the breathing apparatus. "You…made it."

Quinn nodded, but sighed out, "Why did you want to see me?"

Daniel swallowed. "I wanted…to tell one of you…how sorry I am. I thought…you would be the most…receptive. I'm sorry. It seemed…much better…talking about it…than doing it."

He pressed the mask over his mouth again, sucking in air. Quinn's frown didn't waver, but she nodded her head.

"I'm sorry you're dying," she said, and Daniel nodded back at her.

She backed away then until she reached the door and slipped out, nodding up to the officer who had brought her up as she closed the door behind her.

"Do you know if you have the ring leader?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, frowning. "From the descriptions we got so far, he was wearing blue jeans, heavy black boots, and a blue plaid flannel shirt. Blue eyes. Nobody came in matching that."

"Well, you can add a bullet wound to your description," Quinn answered.

The officer looked at her questioningly. "No one said anything about him being shot."

Quinn nodded. "That's because it happened just before the explosion. Let me give my statement to you, and I'll explain."

#

By the time Quinn finished giving her statement, morning light was starting to shine in through the waiting room windows, where they had gone to sit, and the officer, whose name she learned was Andrews, was on his third coffee. He thanked her for her statement, assuring her that it would be very helpful in their investigation, and took his leave. She felt exhausted. As if she could slump back in the chair and sleep for days. Maybe weeks.

But the approach of her mother ensured that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Quinn pushed herself up, accepting the second coffee cup she wouldn't be drinking, to appease her mother, and sighed down at her.

"Santana and Brittany…?"

"They're visiting with some of your other friends," she explained. "Before they head home. Santana's parents arrived just a little bit ago to pick them up."

Quinn nodded.

"Your father called. He's stuck at an airport in Denver," her mother said slowly, cautiously.

Quinn shrugged and looked at her. "Doesn't matter. I should stop in on…a few people, but you don't have to stay, I know you have work."

"No. Honey, I'm staying with you. I'm here, for whatever you need." She smiled sweetly.

Quinn's attention flickered away as she caught movement beyond her mother. Rachel had just walked in, stopped, and stared across at Quinn. She stared back, answering absently, "Thank you. Right now, I just…" Tina trotted in, catching up to Rachel, and took her arm and attention away. "I just need to see everyone."

She nodded down to her mother, who patted her arm, assuring, "I'll wait here."

Quinn accepted her kiss on the cheek and slipped away down the hall, allowing herself one last glance toward Rachel. Her first stop was Puck's room, though when she arrived it was to find him fast asleep, drooling on his hospital gown. They had him on a heavy dose, it seemed, but with a skull fracture, it was no wonder. She stayed with him for a few moments before writing out a note to leave at his bedside, saying that she'd make sure Shelby and Beth knew he was alive, but in the hospital.

She flicked off the lights on her way out. She peeked in on Mr. Schuester, still guarded vigilantly by Ms. Pillsbury, and on Mrs. Hummel. Finn was out of bed, sitting next to her. His arm was in a sling. She thought she heard muffled cries, but didn't watch long enough to find out.

Lastly, she peered into Kurt's room, where Blaine was curled up on the bed next to him. She was just about to turn away, so as not to intrude on yet another intimate moment, when Blaine jerked his head up and said, "Wait."

Quinn's brow quirked, but she paused in the doorway.

"Come in. Please," Blaine said, sitting up slowly.

Kurt barely opened his eyes next to his husband and Quinn stepped inside, pushing her hands into the jeans pockets.

"I didn't mean to intrude, I just wanted to make sure you were all okay, see if you needed anything," she breathed out, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"You're not intruding," Kurt said weakly. "Blaine and…Rachel told me you're the reason I'm still alive."

She shook her head. "Your stepmom is the one who saved you."

"They said the only reason that…psychopath let her save me was you," he countered. "So thank you. I know you and I haven't always gotten along, but it means a lot, and I owe you."

"We both do," Blaine cut in.

Quinn glanced from Kurt to Blaine, opening her mouth once, twice, and finally just nodding her head.

"Well. I'm glad you're okay. I'll leave you two alone," she answered evenly, and Kurt's eyes closed as she backed away, and shut the door behind her.

Rachel was nowhere in sight when Quinn returned to the waiting room to rejoin her mother. Nor was Tina, or Mike, or Santana, or Brittany, or anyone, really. Quinn's mom had seen a few of them being collected by frantic parents, the others disappearing without a trace for the time being. Quinn couldn't blame them.

She was too tired to think, to do anything but let her mother usher her outside, into the car, and to climb the stairs to her bedroom once they arrived home, flop onto her covers, and fall asleep, with one last flicker of Rachel's sweet, awed face in her mind's eye.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Rachel's fathers had been trying to convince her to go home for hours, telling her how exhausted she looked, and how she'd feel better after some sleep and a shower. She didn't want to sleep. And more, she didn't want to leave Kurt after his surgeries and transfusions. She hadn't been able to sit by him during their time as hostages, thanks to Gabriel, and she wanted to sit by him now. Especially knowing what he didn't know.

After the EMTs had finished with her, an officer came over to take Rachel's statement. She prodded and pried at him for information on the list of hostages, on who was found, who was in the hospital, who was still missing, and who was okay. He hadn't told her much, but what he left out, Tina and Mike filled her in on.

Blaine, Sam, and Ms. Pillsbury were all okay, had found their way out or been evacuated before the explosion. Mrs. Hummel and Mr. Schuester had, at the time, been yet to be found. Mr. Hummel had suffered a fatal heart attack, Finn had been shot in the arm, near his bicep, after he'd lunged for Gabriel, and Noah, Mercedes, and Kurt had been taken to the hospital to treat their injuries.

Her fathers drove her to the hospital straight away, and almost the moment they arrived, Artie rolled up to them to deliver updates. Mrs. Hummel and Mr. Schuester were about to arrive, and Mercedes had died.

Kurt's best friend and his father had both died in one night and Rachel couldn't tell him. A part of her knew, could anticipate, how angry he'd be once he found out and knew they'd all been keeping it from him. But she couldn't bring herself to do it and risk him hurting himself, or going into shock, or worse. Neither could Blaine.

When Rachel briefly checked in on Mrs. Hummel, who'd suffered some broken ribs, the older woman agreed. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

Rachel could hardly handle it herself. As happy as she had been to find out Santana and Brittany were still alive, saved by Quinn, she felt an equal amount of sorrow in finding Mr. Hummel and Mercedes dead and gone. She'd had to go to the restroom for a while when she found out, to cry and put herself together again before she saw Kurt and he knew something was wrong and she'd have to tell him anyway.

Mercedes had been one of her best friends. Maybe not as close as Kurt, but they were still kindred spirits. Divas who knew what they wanted and went for it. And God, for the world to lose that voice of Mercedes'. It was a loss Rachel didn't know how to express.

Not to mention gruff Mr. Hummel, who loved his son so much he stood against an entire town to protect his right to be himself.

Suffice it to say, she'd cried long and she'd cried hard, and all the while held herself, pretending it was Quinn's soothing arms so that she could feel that comfort, that safety that had escaped her when they left the elevator. Then she sat with Kurt and Blaine, while her fathers stayed in a waiting room to wait for more news for her, just in case. Just in case Noah decided to up and leave the earth, too.

Kurt asked a few times, about Finn, but Rachel had no answers for him. Not that she wasn't worried about Finn. She was. But she knew he'd survived and with less damage than most of their companions. She just couldn't bring herself to go into that room with him.

Even when he snuck out of bed to visit Kurt, Rachel had fled the room as fast as she could, under the guise of getting another gallon of coffee to keep them all awake. And she'd found Quinn, speaking to her mother, looking as wrecked as Rachel felt. She'd felt overtaken by the desire to run into her comforting arms, but then Tina came, to update her on Noah and Mr. Schuester, and Quinn was gone.

Rachel got herself another crappy coffee to suck down to its dregs, to keep her mind buzzing with caffeine. She didn't want to sleep.

She didn't want to talk to Finn, either. She didn't want to face him. Each time she thought of him, another thought instantly followed. Or rather, an image, a fleeting, less intense version of a feeling she'd been overwhelmed by with Quinn's lips and hands on her. She felt herself quake in response, and then the guilt settled in.

The last time Rachel had cheated on Finn had been with Noah. It was just a makeout session, of course, one meant for payback for Finn's lie about sleeping with Santana. She'd been honest, like he asked, and that had ended their relationship. At the time, it was devastating, to lose him over something that had meant so very little to her. It was just a silly high school girl game and it had ruined everything she had with Finn.

It took her months to get him back.

But now. This hadn't been just a makeout session. Rachel had been ready and willing to give herself completely over to Quinn, and while she tried to excuse it to herself, that they had both been emotional and needed something to confirm their aliveness, she always remembered the safety she'd felt, and the need, not just for comfort, but for Quinn.

She didn't have the energy to examine how she felt about Quinn, when before tonight she'd been so sure of everything, or why she'd been so willing to give herself up to her. She only knew she couldn't stop thinking of her, and that she wanted to see her again, be in her arms again.

But where did that leave her and Finn?

Rachel refilled her cup, along with another, adding a little sugar to it this time and stirring it in before she set off toward Finn's room. He snuck out every now and then, to see Kurt or his mom, but a nurse always came along to usher him back into bed. She hoped he would be alone and where he belonged this time, and hope won out when she found him lying back, staring at the ceiling tiles.

"Hey," she alerted him quietly, and he jerked his head on his pillow to look at her and smiled. "Up for some company?"

She trod over to his bedside, offering him the sugared coffee cup, and sat in the chair next to him.

"Absolutely. Especially if it's you. Thank you." He smiled wider, taking the cup in his left, uninjured hand, and sipped at it. "Wow, that's some crap coffee."

Rachel couldn't help but chuckle, even if only for a moment, as she peered up at him.

Finn sighed, sobering. "I'm glad you came to see me. I was afraid you were mad at me."

Her brow furrowed. "Mad-mad at you, why would I be mad at you?"

"Cause I wasn't the one who saved you?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I was so worried about you, when they woke me up here, and they told me they hadn't found you yet. And I just…I got so pissed at myself for not protecting you better."

Rachel bit down on her bottom lip. "You were shot, Finn."

"I know, but come on, when _Quinn_ is the one who rescues you?" He groaned, shaking his head. "And Sam helped get Kurt out, and his dad…"

"Hey." She set a hand carefully on his arm. "None of this is your fault. Especially not Kurt's dad. He had a heart attack. Not one of us could've stopped that. And again, you were shot. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Finn frowned a little down at her. "It's so hard not to say anything to Kurt, you know?"

"I know. But we all agree, this is what's best for him right now."

He nodded and sipped at his coffee. "So you're not mad at me, though?"

Rachel smiled a tiny bit and shook her head. "No. Actually…" She looked down at her cup, her stomach jumping all of a sudden.

"What? What's wrong?"

She closed her eyes, gathering her guts together. "I have to tell you something. We promised to be honest and I want to stick to that."

"Okay. This isn't good, is it?" Finn was staring at her with those big eyes.

Rachel bit her lip. "While Quinn and I were in the elevator…we kissed."

Finn's stare didn't break. Rachel couldn't hold his gaze for very long, her stomach pooling with guilt and coffee as she took another drink, in lieu of facing him.

"You kissed…Quinn. Quinn kissed you." Finn blinked. "You're both straight."

Rachel almost spat out her coffee. "Finn, you know that sexuality is fluid, and besides, you can hardly know what your orientation is as a teenager, with hormones flying wild and – "

Finn squinted. "So you're saying you're gay now?"

She puffed. "No! Finn. Please."

He looked away abruptly and drank at it his own cup for a moment. The silence was almost preferable to that line of conversation, so Rachel sat back more comfortably, and let him have some time.

"So, what…you were like, freaking out and it just happened?" he muttered at last.

Rachel hesitated. "No, not exactly…"

"She saw you were upset and took advantage of the situation?"

"What? No!"

"Then what, Rachel?" He stared at her again, grimacing. "Why'd you…why would you kiss her?"

She struggled, searching for an answer for him. "Does it matter?"

"Uh, yeah, cause at least…at least if you were just scared and it just happened, I mean. I'm angry, but I could get that. But if you just…kissed Quinn to kiss Quinn, then I don't…"

Rachel wetted her lips, considering his words. "I can't…explain what happened, Finn. We were trapped down there, she'd just saved my life. I wanted to thank her."

"So you kissed her out of gratitude."

"No. No, she…she was comforting, and really sweet, and…she was scared because of the claustrophobia and I just wanted to make her feel better."

"So you kissed her to make her feel better."

She talked over him this time, continuing, "And I wanted to feel better, and she made me feel good. And we kissed. And…" She shrugged her shoulders, helpless.

Finn was practically glaring at her now. "And what? Come on, Rachel, what?"

"Nothing, I don't know." She winced.

"Well, none of that really helps me out here, so what am I supposed to say? You not only…kissed another person who is not me, _again_, but you kissed _Quinn_. My ex-girlfriend, who also cheated on me, by the way."

Rachel frowned up at him. "Okay, don't act like you're innocent in all this. You kissed me more than once while you were with Quinn and she was pregnant, remember?"

Finn huffed, but said nothing, at least for a moment. "Well, all that's over now. And…you're out of the elevator now, so we can just…I can just try to get past it and we can just move on." He nodded his head decisively.

Rachel took a breath. "Finn, I…I didn't just kiss her because we were in an elevator."

He wrinkled his brow at her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't regret it." She stared up at him, at his face turning darker, and pushed on, "I mean, I do. For the fact that I've hurt you, and for cheating on you, as you pointed out, again. But I don't regret kissing her."

He hesitated, taking a breath. "So what, what are you saying, Rachel? Are you saying you wanna, like, be with her? Cause that doesn't really work for me."

Rachel closed her eyes, feeling tears start to rise all over again at the pain on his face. "Finn, I'm so sorry."

"Do you want to be with Quinn?" he growled.

She sighed. "I…don't know what I want. But I think…I _know_ that if I don't find out, I'll regret it."

"Rachel, you're not really helping me out here. What do you want? What are you saying? Are you dumping me? Are you…are you leaving me for her? To go…experiment with her until you realize you still love me? Cause I know, I know you do, I asked you to marry me and you said yes."

"Finn, we were getting married out of fear!" she retorted in frustration. "Quinn…she was right, she knew we were marrying each other because we were afraid our lives after high school would go nowhere, and all we'd have is each other."

"Maybe that's why _you_ did it, but I love you," Finn maintained angrily.

Rachel sighed. "Okay. Fine. And I loved you, but I am not doing this to experiment at all. I am doing this because…I feel something deep for Quinn."

He frowned, wrinkling his nose. "For the girl who called you names until glee."

"For the woman who has always supported my dreams," she corrected.

"And you're dumping me, over that. I supported you, too."

"I'm not dumping you, Finn, I'm saying we should take a break," she pled. "You don't want to be with someone who is wondering about someone else, do you? And I…need to know about what this is with Quinn. Because Finn…if I still loved you, I mean, if I was still…_really_ in love with you, why would I have kissed her?"

Finn shook his head and looked down into his coffee cup, grinding his jaw.

"The only answer I can think of is that…I don't. And that I need to see what I have with Quinn," Rachel continued, as gently as she could.

He worked his teeth together a few more times. "Fine. You have it your way, but I am not going to stop loving you. And I'm not going to stop fighting for us, because this is just…this is just this whole hostage thing getting to you and messing you up because she saved you."

Rachel sighed sadly. "If that's what you need to believe…"

"Yeah, well, I do. Just…just go. Okay? Before a nurse comes by and kicks you out anyway."

He stared straight ahead now, not looking at her, and Rachel nodded slowly, picking herself up off the chair. She paused and turned back about at the door.

"I really am sorry, Finn. I want you to know that I do still love you, as my friend. I never intended for this to happen."

He just kept staring at the wall, so she nodded to herself, and turned back around, slipping out of the room.

#

Kurt immediately noticed Rachel's discontent when she came back into the room. Like he always did. Like everyone did, to be fair. But Kurt was much more persistent about it, usually. Fortunately, he was far too tired to actually prod her the way he normally would, and when Rachel put it off to the night's events, not quite ready to discuss her difficult conversation with Finn or her possible future difficult conversations with Quinn, he bought it and went back to resting.

He dozed now and then, and in the meantime, Rachel's fathers brought her and Blaine lunch and a pack of cards to deal over Kurt's sheet, to fight the boredom. Rachel wasn't much in the mood for games, but every time they turned on the TV, a report about their night was on, and they'd show pictures of some of the casualties. Mercedes, and Mr. Hummel. And the girl named Julie. They flipped off the TV pretty quickly after that.

So games it was. They picked at their food between games of War and Euchre, and whenever Kurt woke up, Blaine fed him water and a little bite to eat, while Rachel read an article from one of the hospital-supplied People magazines to them, occasionally singing the entirety of them, making up a melody as she went.

They had a little fun. But mostly, the afternoon was long, and lazy, and by the time Kurt told the both of them to go home and shower because they smelled, it was evening, and Rachel's dads were more than ready to get her out of the hospital and home safe and sound.

She kissed Kurt's cheek goodbye for the night and stopped by Mr. Schuester's room to wish him better, and finally let her fathers drag her out to the car and home. She would've liked another cup of coffee to keep herself awake, but her fathers refused to allow her any such beverage, instead offering a soothing tea or a warm glass of milk. She waved off their offerings and instead went up the stairs to shower.

It felt good to get out of the dress and high heels she'd been wearing for what felt like ages now. To scrub the makeup off her face and wash the hotel, debris, and hospital off her skin. And to think about Quinn, touching her, kissing her, biting her in the naked privacy of her shower, and slip a hand between her legs to achieve the release that had been stolen from her so much earlier.

And it felt good to dry off in a fluffy towel and to change into comfortable pajamas, to slide under the covers and be tucked in by her doting fathers, who kissed her cheeks over and over again until exhaustion took hold of her, and Rachel drifted off in the warmth of her bed.

The first few hours were peaceful enough. The hours without sleep, already straining and exhausting enough on their own, left Rachel sleeping like a log, hardly moving despite her usual active sleeping patterns. But as her body and mind began to recover, she started to slip into dreams, dreams that started out the usual way.

Broadway, the bright spotlights shining down on her like a beacon as Rachel finished a high note to thunderous applause. The song changed from dream to dream. Sometimes she was singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow with a little black dog in a basket; sometimes it was Roxie, sometimes Don't Rain On My Parade, sometimes a dozen other songs she had memorized by the time she was five.

Tonight it was Defying Gravity, and the curtains closed, and the ropes started to lower her, and one snapped. Rachel plummeted to the stage.

The spotlights were out. She felt a tremor travel up her spine and reached around in the darkness for something to grab onto. Fog lifted from the stage floor, and as she searched, a few lights started to flicker dimly on. She heard singing, from someone else this time, and as she sought for the source, a small boat appeared.

The Phantom of the Opera rowed his boat on, with Christine at the bow, singing her heart out with Rachel's voice. Rachel stared, grasping at her throat as she tried to speak, to call out to them. Nothing came of it, and they started to row past her, not even seeing her in the fog and darkness. She tried to call again, and this time the Phantom's head twisted around apart from his body and he was wearing a ski mask, and laughed madly at her, aimed, and fired a gun at her.

Rachel woke. She sat up in the darkness of her room, her heart threatening to beat through her chest, through her ribcage, and sweat was pooling at the base of her spine. She grasped at her chest, her throat, and let out a sob, burying her face into her knees.

A sniffle or two slowed her down, as she swallowed it all back, held it in, and flew out of bed. She jerked her dresser drawers open, slipping on a dress and a pair of yoga pants with shaking hands, hopping down the stairs as she pulled the latter up and dug through the pile of keys just inside the front door for hers. She scribbled down a note to her fathers on the pad, and out the door she went.

She wasn't sure how she made it to Quinn's house without crashing. Her tears made the entire ride a blurry mess, and she could only be thankful that this late, not many cars were on the road. For a moment, she feared for the late hour, that Quinn wouldn't be up, or wouldn't hear her knocking, but as she pulled up to the curb, she saw lights on in the Fabray house.

With new enthusiasm, Rachel burst from the car and trotted up the front steps, knocking wildly and rubbing her nose with different hands. A few moments later, Quinn's blanketed silhouette opened the door and stared down at Rachel.

She resisted the urge, the need to crush herself to Quinn's chest, and simply said, "I can't sleep."

Quinn's silhouette shifted backward, opening the door to Rachel, and she immediately took the unspoken invitation into the quiet Fabray home. The kitchen lights were on, but the rest of the house was dark, and Rachel hesitated, until she felt arms, blanket and all, wrapping around her from behind. And she leaned back into Quinn heavily, closing her eyes. Finally feeling safe.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Quinn maintained her hold on Rachel's waist for possibly a minute too long, but she couldn't seem to pry herself away any sooner, breathing in her smell and feeling her warmth. It had been a long day, and night, despite the hours she spent sleeping that morning and into the afternoon. Thankfully, it had been a dreamless, dead sleep, the kind that came only when the mind and body were completely drained.

When she woke, it was to grab a long shower, folding up Mary's clothes to deliver to the cops later – not that it would help them much – and fixing her cross on a new necklace chain, and to join her mother downstairs. They spent most of the afternoon and evening watching the news reports on what had happened. Not that the newscasters said anything that Quinn didn't already know.

Eleven dead, dozens critically injured in an attack by religious extremists, captured suspects had been identified. Ring leader unknown and still missing. There was a sketch shown later on in the day, compiled from everyone's statements, and a warning that he had been shot.

Quinn didn't know where she'd shot him. In the dark and the fog, it was hard to tell, and she was no gun expert. She only saw him about to hit the detonator and she was too far away to stop him, so she fired. She saw him react, but he hit the detonator anyway and disappeared. Officer Anderson had told her that obviously, no charges would be brought up against her, even if they did find him, and in the future to try not to play hero.

She hadn't been, really. Mary had had Santana by the hair, holding the rifle to her neck to keep Quinn in check as she walked a couple steps ahead of them. They passed by a decorative vase, and Quinn glanced back. Santana broke loose for a moment, and Quinn grabbed the rifle, yanking it forward to knock Mary off balance, and Santana smashed her over the head with the vase.

Santana had immediately wanted to go back in, to get Brittany out of there. Quinn agreed. They couldn't let Gabriel know that Mary was out of commission, and that they'd escaped, and they couldn't leave Brittany and Mercedes and Rachel to die in there. It wasn't heroics. Just an odd mix of common sense and desperation.

But Quinn had simply agreed with Anderson at the time, that she wouldn't do anything so foolish again. Truth be told, she hoped she'd never have to. She hoped a night like this never happened again.

Thinking that only made Quinn grip Rachel tighter, in relief that she'd saved her. She was alive and well and standing right there in front of her, holding Quinn's arms around her.

Quinn opened her eyes slowly then and retracted her embrace, despite Rachel grabbing for her arms and hands briefly. She left a hand on Rachel's upper back, ushering her toward the kitchen, where she'd camped out after realizing that all she was going to do after her mother went to bed was toss and turn, and turn and toss.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" she prompted, and Rachel shook her head.

"Not really. Thank you."

In the full light, Quinn could see clearly that Rachel had been crying. Still moist tear tracks shone on her face when she tilted her head, and Quinn sighed in sympathy.

"C'mere," she murmured.

Rachel didn't waste a moment rushing into her arms, burrowing into her chest and sobbing freely into Quinn's black t-shirt. Quinn stroked her hands up and down Rachel's shaking back, rubbing circles into the tensest of muscles, and squeezed her closer, tighter when Rachel squirmed nearer, seeming to beg for it. Only when the tears started to ebb away did Quinn back up out of the embrace, pulling the blanket from around herself to wrap around Rachel's shoulders instead. She tucked Rachel into it, smoothing the blanket's wrinkles down over her back and shoulders.

Rachel peered up at her with a tiny, tearful smile, and Quinn couldn't help but touch her, even just to stroke her hair back from her face.

"C'mon." She tugged lightly at the blanket, taking Rachel's hand once it was offered, and led her up the spiral staircase, down the hall to her room. Once the door was shut, she sat Rachel down on the bed and went to her dresser, shuffling through to find something suitable and more comfortable than the yellow dress Rachel currently had on. After a moment of digging, she produced a big green sweater and set it carefully in Rachel's lap.

She hesitated, petted Rachel's hair, and murmured, "I'll be right back."

Rachel looked about to protest, but ultimately said nothing, so Quinn shut the door behind her and went back down the stairs to the kitchen to put on some tea. By the time she returned, Rachel had the sweater on and sat with the blanket around her shoulders by the headboard, knees up to her chest. Quinn offered the cup, watching Rachel untangle her fingers from the blanket and sweater sleeves to take it carefully, sipping once.

"Thank you."

Quinn nodded, seating herself just in front of Rachel, watching her. She seemed better than when she first arrived at Quinn's door. Then she'd been harried, tearful, anxious. Now she was more settled, snug in Quinn's sweater and blanket and bed. The tears had stopped, for now, and Rachel just sat, quietly sipping, looking back at Quinn now and then.

Quinn took a quiet, measured breath. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Rachel's lips dropped down, and she quivered. "I had a nightmare."

She nodded her understanding. "We'll all probably be having those for a while."

"Is that why you're up at this hour?"

"No. I slept…most of the day, I just couldn't sleep tonight."

Rachel nodded. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad."

Quinn glanced up at her through her lashes, eyebrow quirking.

"I was in a panic when I woke up and I just…I needed to see you," she explained uncertainly. "If I was going to feel safe again, it was here, with you, and I just, I needed that, I can't explain it, I – "

"You don't have to, I understand."

Rachel smiled a little. "You know, Mercedes once told me – " Quinn dropped her gaze away " – that there was a real you, underneath all the frustration and anger, that was more accepting and understanding than I knew. I never really saw what she meant until this past year. You've been so good to me. Not just saving my life, but telling me the truth, always, and then supporting me even if I made the opposite decision of what you were telling me."

Quinn heaved a sigh. "I just want you to be happy. It's up to you…what gets the job done, I can't tell you."

She felt Rachel shift closer. "Well, you've made me really happy, Quinn."

She jerked her head up, finding big brown eyes staring at her soulfully. Rachel bit her lip through a little smile and continued on.

"You saved me. Twice. Of all people, you saved me. And you've made me feel safe in a situation that, before, was driving me insane, not knowing what was going to happen to us. Or to Kurt, or any one of us. You made me feel amazing." Her cheeks were tinged with pink. "But it hasn't just been last night or tonight, I've realized, it's been so much longer than that. You finally accepted me as a friend and ever since then, you've been making me smile. Even if it's just because you told me first, out of everyone, that you got into Yale, or that you let me hug you. You make me feel special, Quinn. Just by being my friend, and then in the elevator…"

Rachel trailed off nervously, but Quinn couldn't find any words to answer her with, to soothe her. There were no words for what it felt like, kissing and touching Rachel like she was hers. Rachel was turning her tea cup in her hands, though, so she tried.

"We…needed each other, there's nothing wrong with that."

"No, no, I know that," Rachel rushed. "That's not, really what I'm trying to say."

Quinn nodded slowly. "What…are you trying to say then?"

"That I-I want to know. How you feel. About me." She licked her lips. "I know that you care, obviously. You saved me, you support me, you made sure we get to see each other at college. But you also kissed me and almost…made love or had sex or whatever you want to call it, with me, and I just need to know if it all meant to you what it did to me." She hesitated, then prodded when Quinn was silent, "Do you…do you have feelings for me?"

Quinn felt her pulse throbbing. But she nodded. "Yes."

Rachel beamed, relaxing her posture. "I have feelings for you, too."

Quinn's lips twitched upward, into something of a smile, and her heart was preparing to launch out of her chest at any moment. Rachel started to move herself closer.

"But," Quinn said, and Rachel froze.

"But what?"

Quinn looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Finn."

Rachel seemed to relax all over again. "Quinn, I told him. Not graphically or anything, but I told him we kissed and it's over, right now. I ended it."

She stared, eyebrow cocked. "Be-cause of me?"

"Yes. Sort of. Because whether or not you felt something for me, it wouldn't be fair to be with him while I really want to know what it's like to be with you."

"But you want to be with him."

"I don't know that I do, anymore. I thought…I thought he was my soulmate, but – "

"I know. You were going to marry him," she pointed out softly, looking at Rachel beneath her eyelashes again.

Rachel sighed, grimacing. "But you were right. I fell in love with him when we were sixteen. That doesn't seem…like a long time, but you know better than any of us what two years can do to your life, and we've changed. I was afraid, I was afraid that my dreams were falling through and that all I'd have left was Finn and I didn't want to lose that. But…when I'm with you. I feel brave again. And I'm not so scared that I'll have nothing left. And that makes me feel like I've been holding onto Finn out of fear instead of love, and that's not fair to either one of us. I need to know if what I feel for you…can be more."

Quinn nodded slowly, watching Rachel's hope-filled face start to drain of happiness more and more, the longer she was silent. But she couldn't help it. She needed to process. It was clear that Rachel wasn't really sure about anything, but that somehow, their near-tryst in the elevator had opened up her mind to a possibility that she had never thought of before. And that was, understandably, confusing for Rachel.

At the same time, Rachel was sure enough to break up with Finn, to open a vein to Quinn, to be perfectly honest with her about this simultaneous confusion and sureness. Sureness about her feelings. Was it enough? To be sure she felt something for Quinn, even if she couldn't define it, couldn't deny that she was still trying to figure things out? Was it wise to put herself in the middle of Rachel's figuring, to possibly get hurt in the process of another famous Finn and Rachel break-up and make-up?

Almost certainly not. But Mercedes would say screw it. Mercedes would tell her that she'd been through enough, that she deserved to grab some happiness in life. To treat herself. And Quinn had already failed Mercedes enough.

She turned her attention to Rachel again, lifting the now empty teacup from her hands to set it on the nightstand nearby, and then cupped her face, stroking brunette hair out of her eyes and off her cheeks. Rachel's smile was cautious, but visible. Quinn kissed her forehead, but pulled back minutely when Rachel lifted her head for lip-to-lip contact.

"Slow," she muttered, and though Rachel's eyes flickered to her mouth with disappointment, she nodded.

Quinn pressed her lips against the crown of Rachel's head again, before moving herself further up onto the bed, to lean against the headboard next to Rachel. She left an arm open for Rachel, who, seeing the invitation, snuggled instantly into her side. She pulled the blanket over the both of them, cocooning them close together, and Quinn couldn't help but smile, feeling Rachel squirming up close to her, breathing her in.

"I like this," Rachel murmured up to her, almost shy.

Quinn smiled. "Like what?"

"Having your arms around me. You should know that you are a great hugger, and you shouldn't waste your talent. The world deserves to experience it," she teased.

"How about I just hug _you_ more?"

"That's an acceptable use of your talents." Rachel giggled, and Quinn stroked her hair.

Her breathing was evening out, steadying with contentedness with Rachel pressed up in a little ball against her side. She felt a finger tracing tiny circles just above the neck hem of her t-shirt, on the point of her collarbone. She twirled a strand of brunette hair around one of her own fingers. She was nearly ready to drift back to sleep again, were it not for the wood of her headboard against the back of her neck making the idea quite unappealing, and for Rachel's voice, suddenly breaking the silence again.

"What are you thinking about?"

Quinn shrugged her free shoulder, staring at the hair around her pale finger. "This is the first time since this whole thing started I've been able to stop thinking," she admitted, then shifted her head a bit to try and get a look at Rachel. "What about you?"

Rachel sighed. "Kurt, mostly. I'm worried about him."

"Did something else happen?"

Rachel shook her head against Quinn's chest. "We just haven't told him about Mercedes and his dad yet, and I'm…I just don't know how long we can hide it from him. He asked about both of them. Blaine just said they wanted him to rest and recover. I didn't know what to say. I still don't. I don't even know if we're doing the right thing by keeping it from him."

"You're afraid if you tell him he'll have a setback," Quinn questioned, tangling her fingers further into her hair, stroking over her scalp lightly.

She nodded. "And when he finds out…God, he's going to be so angry. I know he's already blaming himself for what happened and to find out that they…they didn't make it, and we kept it from him…"

Quinn dropped her hand to Rachel's shoulder as she considered that, tracing circles with her thumb.

"Well, what's…more important, his physical health or whether he's angry at you for protecting him?"

Rachel sighed. "It's not that simple, though. Everyone who loves him is going along with this and he's going to need us. I'm afraid if he feels like not only are they gone, not only is this his fault, but he has no one to turn to, no one to trust, he's going to do something he can't take back or…I don't know, something."

She pursed her lips. "Do you think he can handle knowing right now? Without having a setback."

Rachel was silent for a moment. "No."

"Would you tell him if you thought he could?"

"Of course, yes."

"Then all you can do is tell him that, when he can handle it. If he can't understand, then it sucks, but at least he's still alive. And of course, you can't control how he chooses to deal with it, but you know you're doing what he needs. Just wait to catch him if he needs it. And then he'll realize it wasn't a betrayal."

"You always give out such…reasonable advice," Rachel murmured, a little tease in her voice.

Quinn's lip quirked up. "It's easier to be logical when you're an objective party."

"But you're not. You loved Mercedes, too," she said carefully, lifting her head up to look at Quinn.

She frowned. "I don't need to be protected from the fact that she's dead."

Rachel just stared at her for a moment, into her eyes, before she murmured, "But you're in pain. Don't keep it bottled up." She lifted her hand, stroking it through Quinn's hair, scooping it from her temple. "Please."

Quinn sighed, closing her eyes. "I can't."

"You can't what? You can't mourn? You can't tell me what you're feeling?" Rachel's hand paused in Quinn's hair. "Or you won't?"

She shook her head, peering at Rachel through the mist in her eyes. "I don't deserve to. I left her alone while that building exploded down on her head."

Rachel was suddenly hugging her around the neck. "Quinn. We've talked about this, this _wasn't_ your fault. Mercedes dying was _not_ your fault."

Quinn felt a few kisses on her hair. "I should've gotten her out before he even had the chance to hit the detonator."

"You didn't get me out before then, either," Rachel pointed out, leaning back to look at her again. "Neither of us would look at you, because she killed you and we hated her. You couldn't do anything about that without exposing yourself."

Quinn swallowed. "I should've tried harder."

"How? How would you have tried harder? All you did was to protect us and yourself, and there is nothing wrong with that. You couldn't have changed anything you did without getting one of us hurt. Unless you had saved her, instead of me. Would you rather…?"

"No," Quinn spat out, almost cursing, as she gripped Rachel's waist tighter. "But I'd rather you were both alive. That I could've gotten both of you safe."

"Quinn, you are smarter and braver and stronger than anyone I know. And what you did was amazing. But you aren't a cop, you're not trained to save people's lives. You did what you could and you should be proud of that. Not ashamed because Mercedes didn't make it. You are my hero, and I refuse to let you feel guilty."

That look was on Rachel's face again. The same expression she'd worn in the elevator before leaning in for a kiss. Quinn couldn't keep her breath with Rachel staring at her like that. She met Rachel's mouth halfway, returning the touch of those plump, delicious lips and smoothing hands up her back, while Rachel's fingers dove through her short blonde hair, mussing it.

Quinn wasn't sure how Finn ever detached his lips from Rachel's. She was so soft and silky, like the touch of a satin robe over naked skin, spreading goosebumps all over her body, hardening her nipples. Quinn couldn't contain herself. She scooped Rachel by the waist, lowering her to the pillows beneath, and slipped her tongue into her open mouth.

She could taste the tea Rachel had just been sipping at this time, soothing honey drips mixed in. Rachel arched up into her with a moan as she settled between her thighs, and Quinn burrowed her hands under the green sweater, stroking her warm skin and heating up her own hands in the process of offering so many tender caresses.

It was only the realization that Rachel was definitely not wearing a bra at the moment that reminded Quinn to stop, to lift her head and her hands away, and to apologize softly.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't – "

Rachel abruptly hooked her legs around Quinn's waist and tugged her down by the back of her neck for a soft brush of their lips. "Don't. Don't go anywhere. We don't have to do anything, just don't go."

Quinn lifted her hands up to stroke Rachel's hair back from her forehead and face, swallowing. "I'm right here," she breathed. "Not going anywhere."

She kissed Rachel gently, on the forehead, her nose, and then her mouth, and Rachel pulled away first this time, groaning, "God, why do you have to be such an amazing kisser?"

Quinn's cheeks flamed red, but before she could hide it away, duck her head, or even try to maneuver her hair into her face like she would when it was longer – Rachel noticed and smiled.

"Everything you do feels so good," she murmured, and Quinn nearly growled.

"Rachel," she sighed, eliciting a giggle from underneath her.

"I'm just being honest," she said happily, fingers petting the back of Quinn's neck pleasantly. When Quinn lifted her head to simply give her a look, cocking her eyebrow, Rachel laughed. "I am. Besides, I never see you blush. It's cute."

"You are," Quinn mumbled into her neck, heat crawling up her cheeks.

"Thank you." Rachel giggled.

Silence settled between them then, while Rachel occupied herself playing with Quinn's short locks, and Quinn tried to recover from the explosion of red on her face. Which was difficult, considering she was drowning in a world of Rachel. Her vanilla smell, her warm, soft body, her fingers swimming through Quinn's hair, even her humming voice in her ear, and the steady pounding of her heart against Quinn's own chest.

Quinn eventually managed to lift her head to look at Rachel again, receiving a little smile in reward, and kissed the tip of her nose very lightly. Rachel wrinkled it up with an even bigger smile.

"I'm not sorry for saving you," Quinn murmured. "Every time I started to fall apart today, I'd think…but you're alive. And I could keep going."

Rachel had sobered, but her brown eyes shone. "I know what you mean. After your accident, and after I thought…they'd killed you, it was like…it was like my nightmare. I couldn't speak, or sing, or even move. Until I knew you were okay. And then all I could think about all day was you."

She smiled a little and twisted a few strands down along Quinn's cheek.

"That's how I knew," she continued. "Not just…our kiss, but I knew that I cared about you more than I even realized myself, because I don't know what I'd do without you in the world."

Quinn leaned into her touch and murmured, "I care about you, too." She breathed out slowly then. "We should get some rest. I know you'll want to be with Kurt again tomorrow."

Rachel nodded, letting Quinn pull her up and readjust the blankets. Quinn lifted one side of the covers for Rachel, waiting until she had snuggled deep down under them to slide in herself, laying up on her side while she tucked the blankets up beneath Rachel's chin. The brunette smiled, but quickly snuggled up against Quinn's front. Quinn wrapped her up in her arms, rubbing her back.

"I'll be right here if you have another nightmare," Quinn assured her, passing a hand over Rachel's cheek.

She smiled up at her. "I know. And I think that's exactly what I needed to scare them away."

Rachel kissed Quinn's cheek and nuzzled into her neck, settling comfortably up against her. Quinn leaned away only long enough to flick off the lamp light, and then settled to listen to Rachel's breathing as it gradually evened out, and to bask in the feeling of having Rachel in her bed, in her arms, content and safe.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Quinn woke a full hour before Rachel, and she took advantage of the time she was given. Though she at first dallied in bed watching Rachel's chest rise and fall, and her nose wrinkle each time some stray strands of hair fell on it, and her mouth twitch with the occasional soft snore. But after a certain point, the watching started to feel a little, well, odd – so Quinn got up to start her day, dressing comfortably for the hospital.

After she did her makeup, Quinn trekked down the stairs to find that her mother hadn't woken yet, either, so she started on breakfast – a warm cinnamon quinoa with pecans, and toast with a chocolate hazelnut spread. As well as three very full cups of non-hospital coffee, one of which she added some cream to, for her mother.

While she had time for a pause in her cooking, she looked up the Berry's home number and left a message on the answering machine, informing the men of Rachel's whereabouts and that they could meet the three of them at the hospital later.

Once the food had set up and cooled enough to eat safely, Quinn prepared two trays, the first of which she brought up to her mother and set on her vanity table, along with a note explaining Rachel's presence. The second she brought up to her own room and put on top of her dresser when she saw that Rachel was still snug as a bug, fast asleep.

Quinn set a hand on the mattress behind Rachel, leaning over her for a moment to look over that angelic face, long lashes painting short stripes on her cheeks, and kissed her temple. As she drew away, she spied a smile start to lift the corners of Rachel's mouth and moved to sit on the edge of the comforter, watching Rachel lower the covers from her shoulders and scoot up with a smile.

"Hi," she mumbled sleepily.

Quinn couldn't help a little smile of her own. "Good morning."

Rachel stretched herself out, and Quinn felt a foot tap her hip from beneath the covers.

"No more nightmares, I take it?" she prompted, and Rachel shook her head, almost beaming at the mention.

"None. I don't remember ever sleeping so well, actually." Rachel pushed herself up further, and Quinn smiled. "Thank you."

"I'd say you're welcome, but I didn't do anything. Are you up for some breakfast?"

"I knew something smelled good. Yes, please, I'm starving," Rachel groaned, and Quinn stood to retrieve the tray. She set it carefully down over Rachel's lap and sat again, picking up her mug as she eyed Rachel's surprised expression. "You made all this?"

Quinn nodded. "I didn't know how you took your coffee. I can get some sugar for you, but we don't have any soy cream – why are you so surprised?" she chuckled, when Rachel just kept staring at the food.

Rachel blushed, then picked up the knife to spread the hazelnut over a piece of toast. "I didn't know you could cook, that's all. I mean, so well. Or so vegan. It looks amazing."

"Well, there's a lot we don't know about each other," Quinn noted, sipping afterward.

"But a lot we do know, too. And the rest I intend to find out, Quinn Fabray," Rachel said cheerfully, taking a determined bite of her toast.

Quinn only smiled faintly. "I called your dads. I figured it would be best if they at least had a message on the machine since they can't exactly text you at the moment."

"Thank you," Rachel sighed out. "I left them a note, but honestly, I don't even know if it was readable. You think of everything." She smiled again, fondly.

She shrugged. "I try."

Rachel paused between bites, alternating between toast with spread on it, the quinoa, and drinks of her coffee. She eyed Quinn, and the untouched bowl and small plate. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Quinn glanced down at the food and shrugged. "Not that hungry."

Rachel lowered her utensils, watching Quinn. "You're still thinking about Mercedes. Aren't you?"

Quinn cleared her throat. "If you want, we can ride together to the hospital today, and I'll just bring you back to your car when we all go home. Or if you want to stay here again, or…"

"That sounds nice," she said softly, and Quinn nodded. "I'm not going to force it, Quinn. But I'm thinking about her, too. I'm thinking she'd want us to be happy. So I'm trying to enjoy the time we have together, like she enjoyed the time she had with us, and with Sam. She wasn't a time waster, and I want to honor that by being as happy as I can be with the time I have. That's with you."

Quinn glanced up at her through thick eyelashes, her eyes stinging harshly, and Rachel smiled very gently at her, sympathetically, sadness in her eyes. After a moment, Quinn picked up the knife to put a layer of chocolate hazelnut spread on her slice of toast.

#

They finished their breakfast in relative silence, only punctured by the occasional yummy noise from Rachel, mainly, Quinn suspected, to make her smile. She hated to admit that it was most effective.

Just as she went to stand to take care of their tray, and to inform Rachel of the bathrooming items she had set out for her on the counter, her mother knocked and she stilled with one knee still on the bed.

"Come in," she called, only to catch a slightly panicked look on Rachel's face, and furrow her brow.

Her mother came swooping in before she had time to think on it, and for the third time in as many days, Quinn was being crushed in a hug that left her unable to breathe for a moment. She tried to steady herself holding onto her mom, smiling wryly down to Rachel, who nervously flashed one back.

"Mom." Quinn cleared her throat.

She backed off only enough to cup her daughter's cheeks and to smile. "I'm sorry, I know, but I'm afraid you're going to have to deal with a few hugs now and then. At least until I forget that you were almost killed?" she added pointedly, and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Mom, this is Rachel, by the way. Rachel, my mother."

"Oh! I'm sorry, where are my manners?" Her mother promptly took Rachel's hand for a shake, leaving an unusually bewildered look on the singer's face. "It's lovely to meet you, Rachel."

"You, too, Mrs., um…" Rachel faltered.

Her mother smiled, taking pity. "Call me Judy, dear."

"Judy." Rachel nodded. "It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry for just showing up at your house like this and – "

"Please. Dear, you're welcome any time. And after the ordeal you've just been through, it's perfectly understandable." She smiled then and abruptly turned to Quinn. "Thank you for breakfast, by the way, darling. I know you'll want to get to the hospital as soon as possible, so I'll leave you two to get ready."

"You don't have to come, Mom – "

"Darling," she cut in, almost sharply. "I'd rather have a smaller paycheck this week than spend my days worrying about your safety. I won't get in your way, but you are my daughter and I'm going to be with you right now."

Quinn fell silent, accepting the kiss her mother pressed against her cheek, and watched her trail toward the bedroom door.

"It's been lovely meeting you, Rachel," she said, one last time, and smiled as she took her leave.

"You, too," Rachel answered faintly.

Quinn tilted her head. "Okay, what was that about?"

Rachel looked at her, owl-eyed. "What was what about?"

Quinn only stared. Her eyebrow rose. Rachel squirmed.

"I just realized…that I put you in a really awkward position by coming here," she breathed out. "And sleeping with you, and… But then I realized that she wouldn't have any reason to assume anything. I mean, I'm sure Santana and Brittany come over all the time and – "

"Not really," Quinn cut in. She shrugged. "But you didn't put me in an awkward position. We don't make a habit of discussing our love lives around here. And she's right, it's understandable after the wedding." Rachel just looked at her, so she went on, "I left some things out for you in the bathroom, if you want to freshen up. You can borrow anything you want to wear. Okay?"

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

Quinn hesitated, then curled a strand of hair behind Rachel's ear, leaving a little smile on her face. "I'll be back."

After collecting the trays from both hers and her mother's room, Quinn went to work on the dishes, drowning out the sounds of her mother and Rachel getting ready above her. By the time she came back to earth, finished putting everything away, her mother was looking through the mail in the living room, and Rachel was coming downstairs, still in Quinn's green sweater, but now with a pair of her black sweatpants to go with it.

Quinn waited at the bottom of the steps for her, watching Rachel smile sheepishly and lean up against her chest to whisper, "I hope you don't mind…I didn't think it would be appropriate to spend the day with your mother without a bra on."

Quinn almost laughed, but managed to contain it with a bite on her bottom lip. "Well. I said you could borrow anything. It's okay."

Rachel blushed, but she was smiling, and Quinn couldn't help herself. She kissed the crown of her head, tucking Rachel closer to her in a loose hug around her shoulders. Rachel seemed about to burrow in deeper, lifting her hands up, when they were interrupted by the sound of her mother's voice.

"Ah, are we all ready to go then?"

Rachel moved away, and Quinn nodded after exchanging a glance with her. Her mother insisted on driving, so the two of them piled into the backseat across from each other, and rode in silence. Or at least, Quinn did. She thought she heard one of them speak occasionally, but she was too wrapped up in her own world to pay much mind to it.

The primary topic of her thoughts, of course, was what exactly they would find at the hospital today. And the apprehension only rose when they arrived to see almost as many cop cars outside as the previous night, and as they approached their friends' rooms, there were a few officers milling about, talking to the family members waiting outside.

Quinn's hand was suddenly being gripped tightly, and she glanced down to find Rachel peering anxiously at the throng. Quinn squeezed her hand and tangled their fingers together, leading her forward once she saw Officer Anderson.

"Anderson," she called, and he straightened when he spied her. "What's going on?"

He glanced around briefly before ducking his head toward her, keeping his voice low, "A paramedic was killed about twenty miles from here, in Elida. We're thinking this guy Gabriel's on the move."

Rachel gasped quietly behind her, and Quinn rubbed her thumb over Rachel's.

"At this point, this is just a precaution, we're just posting a guard here at the hospital, going to have patrol cars going by the other hostages' homes just in case. I'm doubtful he's coming back though; if we catch him, it's going to be in another state. Unless he makes it to a border first," Anderson said, shrugging. "We're just keeping families updated on the situation, but we don't want anyone leaking anything to the press right now, just in case."

Quinn nodded. "Just in case he sees and figures you're on his trail."

"Why would he kill a paramedic, though?" Rachel whispered to Quinn, but Anderson heard and spoke up.

"Probably stopped to get bandaged up. The medic was found with supplies out."

"Bandaged up?"

"You haven't been paying much attention to the news, have you? Miss Fabray here shot him, though we're keeping that particular part on the down low as well," Anderson said, amused.

Quinn felt Rachel tugging her hand.

"Thank you, Anderson," she said simply, and he nodded as she turned to follow Rachel to an emptier part of the hallway, down from the crowd.

"You didn't tell me you shot him," she said, eyes wide.

"It…didn't seem important. Besides, I doubt I did much damage."

Rachel smiled, sighing. "I could never be as modest as you are."

"It's not modesty, I'm just telling the truth." She couldn't help but smile a little anyway, before taking Rachel's arm to pull her even further down the hall. "Listen. Whatever happens in the next few weeks, I want you to be careful."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Okay, I will be, but why?"

"I don't think that Gabriel is so eager to leave," Quinn admitted cautiously.

"But…he's already left town. And that cop said – "

"I know, I know what he said, and he's probably right. But I want you to be careful anyway. Just in case, because if they're wrong, then he could do a lot more damage and I don't want you…to be part of that."

Rachel bit her lip, but nodded slowly. "Okay. I will be careful. But don't worry so much, I'm sure the police are right. And even if they aren't, I have you to protect me." She smiled then and shifted closer, but before Quinn could come close to getting her hands on Rachel's waist, they were interrupted again.

"Quinn." She peered past Rachel and found, surprise of all surprises, Sam standing there, hands stuffed in his dress pants' pockets. He hadn't even changed out of his tux. He jerked his head. "Need to talk to you…"

Quinn nodded before she turned her gaze back to Rachel, stroking a hand down her arm as she opened her mouth to speak. Rachel beat her to it.

"It's okay. I want to see how Kurt's doing anyway." She smiled, and Quinn nodded, watching her breeze past and disappear into the group of cops and families before she turned back to Sam. He jerked his head again, and she went to his side to walk down the hall with him, folding her arms against her chest.

"Where have you been?"

"The Jones'," Sam muttered. "Wanted to tell them before the cops did."

Quinn's stomach dropped. She nodded.

"Funeral's in two days. They wanted to wait for Kurt to get well enough to go, but…"

She could only nod again, stiffly, while Sam's voice broke.

"They asked me to tell you, and if maybe you wanted to say something."

Quinn paused, turning to look up at him, brow furrowing. "Oh. I don't… I'm not sure…"

Sam looked at her with something close to sympathy. If he hadn't looked so utterly broken, it might have been closer.

She shook her head. "I don't think I could do that."

He nodded and looked away. "Cause you didn't save her."

Quinn hesitated, but moved closer to him. "You helped get Kurt out, Sam, that's what Mercedes…would have wanted."

"She would have wanted to live," Sam growled. "And don't…don't make excuses for me when you know just as well as I do that we both failed her. We all did. Cause nobody ever thought about her. We just – "

"You thought about her, Sam. I thought about her."

He shook his head angrily. "Not enough to find her. Save her. We left her alone."

"You're punishing yourself for not being with her. Life took you in different directions, that's not your fault."

"I'm punishing myself for killing her."

Quinn stared at his pained, drawn face. He was crying again, silently this time, unlike when she found him just after Mercedes passed away. His eyes were red, puffy. It was almost as if he never stopped crying. She felt a rush of empathy for him, a kindred feeling she hadn't shared with Sam since they first dated.

She shifted closer to him. "You once told me that I deserve happiness. Well, so do you, Sam. And she's going to help you through this." She gripped her cross lightly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"No. Don't tell me she's with that…_thing_ those bastards who _murdered_ her were so happy to kill for!"

"Their God does not _exist_, Sam! Mercedes knew that, and she would not want you blaming _her_ God for this."

Sam stared at her, almost pouting, his jaw tight. Quinn just stared back until he looked away, and then said, softer, "You're looking for a place to put your blame. Put it where it belongs. With the people who chose to kill."

He was silent, and Quinn could feel the tension draining out of him, whether because of her words or because of his own deep exhaustion, she couldn't tell. Either way, she was relieved to see him calming, relaxing from his explosion of feeling, if only because a nurse down the hallway no longer looked about to charge over to tell them to shut up and get him even more upset.

"You really think…you really think he might come back?" Sam prompted at length, and Quinn tilted her head. "I couldn't help but hear…"

Quinn sighed, rolling her neck. "I don't know. I just don't think he's the type to let this lie. He failed to do what he wanted to do. We ruined it for him. That has to be eating at him."

"Well, I hope he does," Sam retorted, and Quinn glanced briefly to his knuckles, white with anger.

She couldn't help but think it. 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' But at the moment, she was on Sam's side.

#

Sam went back to the Jones'. Quinn could only hope that they convinced him to shower, change. Eat. Maybe even shave the dark five o'clock fuzz off his face, mismatched with the blond of his messy hair, though it was darker with grease at the moment. Mercedes' family seemed to be the only comfort he could find, and if they didn't take care of him, Quinn wasn't sure who would. She, for one, had other matters on her mind, and seeing the father of her child was one of them.

Puck still looked like hell. Maybe even worse since the day before when she'd dropped in on him. His face was bruised black and purple, his lip fat with a cut down the right side, and his mohawk was hidden by bright white bandages. But still he grinned lopsidedly when he saw her from beneath a heavy eyelid.

"Hey. Was starting to think you didn't like me no more," he drawled.

She pulled up the chair closer to his bed and sat. "Come on, you know I'll always hate you," she murmured, and he grinned again. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he said simply, then sobered. "They told me about Mercedes. First I thought you and Santana and Britt, all ladies I have loved, were gone. And then her."

Quinn nearly rolled her eyes at his melodrama. "You didn't love Mercedes. Or me, or S, or Britt, for that matter."

"I could've, though," Puck answered, and she fell silent for a moment.

"I called Shelby yesterday, let her know what was going on," she said at length.

"Yeah, I got your note. Actually…they sent flowers. There's a card from Beth." He shifted, pointing to the bouquet of lilies with a Get Well Soon balloon sticking out of it.

Quinn stood curiously, tugging the card from beneath the pot. There was a Red Cross symbol on the front, meticulously colored in from a penciled in boundary, and on the inside, Quinn could just make out a smiling stickman on crutches. Beth's name was written in huge, sloppy letters beneath a neat inscription from Shelby: 'Quinn and Noah, We are both so glad you're all right, and we will visit soon. Love, Shelby and – '

Quinn smiled to herself.

"Cute, right?" Puck interrupted, clearing his throat and coughing. "She's gonna be a famous artist or something."

"She's two, Puck, I think we can wait to send her application to Juilliard in," she answered, but she couldn't help smiling, thinking of it, as she sat next to him again.

"Well, whatever she'll be, she'll be better than her old man."

"That's for sure."

He smirked. "You're so mean to me, Fabray."

"I'm equally mean to everyone." She went on before he could reply, "What are the doctors saying about your fracture? Are you going to need surgery?"

Puck shook his head a little. "Far as I know, they just want to keep an eye, make sure there's no pressure or anything. My mom knows more about it than I do."

"You know, eventually you're going to have to learn to take care of yourself."

He shrugged. "I'll learn when I learn."

"This is part of the reason I didn't want us to parent Beth," she said flatly.

"I thought you didn't want me to be her dad at all."

Quinn fumed. "Would you just…try for once not to piss me off? I came to make sure you were okay and you have to be a di – "

"Luluuuu!"

"Heeey, Beth!" Quinn grabbed up her daughter by the waist, setting her on her lap as she came running up for a hug. Shelby walked in a moment later, looking out of breath and relieved all at once.

"Terrible twos," she said simply, turning to shut the door.

Quinn leaned back to look at Beth, smiling at her.

"You not hurt?" Beth asked, and Quinn shook her head.

"Nope, not even a little." She smiled. "But Puck is, I think he might need some kisses, don't you?"

Beth giggled, and Quinn picked her up higher, standing to set her on Puck's lap as he grinned.

"Well, hi, gorgeous."

Quinn brushed down her shirt, smiling until she looked over to Shelby, who nodded, setting her purse down on the table with the flowers.

"Sorry we interrupted. She was really eager to get here," Shelby explained.

Quinn shook her head, arms folding. "You weren't interrupting anything." She paused. "Thanks for bringing her."

"Well, after we heard what happened…"

"She's walking pretty good now."

Shelby smiled. "Walking? More like running."

Quinn nodded. Sometimes it was hard to remember the reasons she had given Beth up. And to Shelby, of all people. But at the moment, it was clear again, and she could enjoy the sensation of knowing that Beth was well taken care of, that she had done the right thing. That Shelby, despite her mistakes, was deep down like Rachel. Determined, caring, and in the end, always prepared to do the right thing. The best thing. For Beth.

She smiled a little bit then, at Shelby, and though clearly surprised, the woman smiled back.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"I didn't know you owned a sweater without an animal on it."

Rachel couldn't help but smile. Despite the barb, Kurt was sitting up in bed, enough to eat a little breakfast from the plate of flat pancakes in front of him. Blaine was busy mother-henning him, slicing up the pieces to bite size, but he spared a quick smile for Rachel as she stepped in.

"For your information, I'm borrowing it," Rachel said haughtily, tossing her hair before she leaned to kiss his cheek. "I guess you're feeling better."

"Mm. Pain killers help." He shrugged and took another bite from the fork Blaine waved in front of his nose. "How is everyone else doing?"

Rachel smoothed the bottom of the sweatpants she'd borrowed, out of habit, and sat in her chosen chair by his bed. "As far as I know, they're all recovering just like you."

Kurt nodded. "Have you seen Finn yet?"

She shook her head. "No, not today."

"He hasn't been in since yesterday," he commented, and Rachel squirmed a bit in her chair, crossing her legs.

"It's not you. He's avoiding me."

Kurt waved away the next bite Blaine offered him, in favor of frowning at Rachel. "What do you mean? Why?"

She chewed her lip. "We broke up yesterday. Well. I broke up with him, technically."

Kurt stared for a moment. "You broke up with him. Yesterday, the day after he was shot and we were all held hostage by a bunch of psychopaths?"

"Of course it sounds bad when you put it like that," she groaned.

"That's because it is bad!" He winced, holding his side.

"Don't strain yourself," Blaine soothed, reaching out for him. "I'm sure Finn's going to be fine."

"He got shot and then dumped, how would you be feeling?" Kurt drawled. "Why? Why couldn't you have waited? Actually, why dump him in the first place? You two were going to get married! What happened?"

"We haven't talked about marriage since our first attempt failed," Rachel pointed out.

"Since Quinn got in an accident. That's not a failure, that was just a hitch."

"A hitch that we never got past."

"Only because you never stopped feeling guilty."

Rachel frowned deeply. "You would feel guilty, too, Kurt. I can't just pretend I wasn't the one texting her, that I wasn't the reason she missed that stop sign."

"Come on, she didn't have to text you back," he grumbled, readjusting on his mattress.

Blaine had given up on feeding him any more breakfast, for the time being, sitting there looking between them.

"But I didn't have to text her at all! It was my choice to put her in that situation, my responsibility, and you should know how that feels."

The three of them froze in silence. Kurt's jaw worked as he looked away from Rachel, and she sighed, dropping her head back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I'm just saying…"

"Yeah, I know what you're saying, but you still haven't explained what any of this has to do with dumping Finn the day after he was shot," Kurt snapped.

Rachel glanced at Blaine, who was very busy smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheet over Kurt's legs. No help at all.

"Nothing. I broke up with him because…I'm not in love anymore, and the person I have feelings for isn't him."

Kurt looked at her, suddenly very interested. "There's someone else?"

Rachel dug under her fingernails and nodded.

"Well, who is it?" At her silence, he egged on, "Come on, I think we all deserve to know who's worth throwing Finn away for."

"I didn't throw him aw – "

"Rachel. I don't think you understand. You dumped him after he was _shot_."

She fumed in frustration, but went on, "I know that. What was I supposed to do, though? Wait, like you said? Until what? Until he's healed? To make him think I was only with him for the purpose of his recovery? Until I head to New York? So he thinks he was just my small town guy? Until we can all forget this nightmare?"

Kurt frowned. "You could've at least waited until…until we all had time to process this. This isn't really a good time to be making decisions, and what if you realize you made a mistake, and try to get him back, but it's too late? How are you going to feel then?"

"This isn't a mistake, Kurt."

"Come on, you're going to pop your stitches or something, Rachel did what she thought she had to do. Just relax," Blaine urged, lifting the remote to lower Kurt back in bed.

Kurt abruptly snatched it away. "How do you know it's not a mistake? How do you know later on you're not going to regret it?"

Rachel hesitated, looking away just a moment, as though she could find a proper answer on the white walls. "Because I'm happy. Or as happy as I can be after everything that's happened."

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "With who?"

Rachel stood up to look him in the eye, smoothing down the sweater. "With Quinn."

Kurt only stared, for the longest time, and Rachel went for the door when he finally spoke, "Let me get this straight. You not only dumped Finn, after he was shot, but you dumped him for his other ex-girlfriend who che – "

Rachel shut the door behind her and sighed, leaning back against it for just a moment. Blaine could deal with his angry husband. It wasn't her responsibility to calm him down, and at the moment, Kurt wouldn't hear her. He got like that when he was angry. He went someplace that couldn't be reached. So she would come back later, when he was down to earth again.

When he could understand that it wasn't about being mean, least of all to Finn. It was about being fair, and honest, most of all.

She shook her head of it all and peered around the hallway to find her fathers just a door away, speaking with one of the last of the police officers who had come to deliver updates on the situation. It had filled her with such disgust that _that man_ was still out there. Still hurting people, killing them on his way to an escape from arrest. She wondered how many more people he would kill before he found refuge.

Unless Quinn was right, and he wasn't looking for refuge. As much as Rachel hated to even entertain the idea, Quinn was perceptive and usually correct, and Gabriel was just crazy enough to want to come back and finish the job he started. In some ways, it was sort of a good thing. If he came back, the police had a better chance of apprehending him, and they could all be at a kind of peace about it. Whereas if he ran, he'd probably never be found, and he'd always be out there, a permanent threat.

But if he did come back, it would be to kill them and he might actually succeed in murdering more than the eleven people he already had. More than Mercedes and Mr. Hummel. Rachel held her stomach.

"Rachel."

She peered up at her papa and her dad, coming back to life and throwing an arm around each of their necks, kissing each cheek.

"Are you all right, pumpkin?"

"We were so worried about you."

She smiled tightly, squeezing them closer. "Just don't ever die, okay?"

Big, strong arms hugged her and kisses landed in her hair.

"What happened last night?"

"Why didn't you wake us?"

Rachel sighed, straining up on her tiptoes for a few moments longer before she lowered herself to look up at them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just…I had this really, really bad nightmare and when I woke up, I just ran. I wasn't thinking, I just drove to Quinn's and everything else was kind of an afterthought. I'm sorry."

"As long as you're okay, it's okay," her dad said, petting back her hair.

She smiled up at him, and then looked to her papa, still stern-faced.

"I guess it's…understandable, the girl did save you," he said at length. "But we're buying you a new cell phone. Today, if possible."

She grinned, having won his unspoken forgiveness, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"We would really like to meet her at some point, you know," her dad added coyly.

Rachel couldn't help but giggle. "You'll meet her."

"After the fuss you threw when she wasn't at your…little nuptials and now she's saved your life." He sighed, glancing up at her papa, who nodded. "We're pretty curious."

"You'll love her," she assured.

Her papa nudged her chin with big fingers. "How could we not? We're already eternally grateful."

"Well, I'm sure you have other people you want to visit, and I think we saw the famous Mrs. Fabray in the waiting room, didn't we, Leroy?"

"I think we did."

"We'll leave you to it, pumpkin."

They both smiled, and Rachel shared one more group hug with the both of them before they trailed off toward a waiting area. She sighed, straightening her sweater. She did want to check on Finn, of course, but she thought it very likely that he wouldn't be up for her presence. And if he was already avoiding Kurt's room because of her, she didn't want to take away his mom's room as a place of safety, too. Or Mr. Schuester, for that matter. So there was really only one person left to visit.

A person whose room she wasn't quite expecting to be so full already.

"Hey, now I've got three my former ladies in here. Get Santana and Brittany in here, we could have a real party."

Noah grinned roguishly and was promptly given a high eyebrow by Quinn and a grimace by Shelby. Rachel cleared her throat, half in the hall and half inside. Beth was staring at her curiously, giggling at Noah's words despite, she was sure – or at least she hoped – not understanding a word.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said at last.

"You aren't," Shelby said quickly. "Come in, please."

Rachel glanced first to Quinn, who only nodded, then to Noah. He waved her in, and Beth took up waving at her instantly. She couldn't help but grin a little, rippling her fingers at the little blonde clone of Quinn, and pulled the door shut behind her as she eased in, fiddling with her sleeves.

"Hi, Beth." She smiled and cleared her throat. "I just wanted to see if you were doing all right, Noah, but obviously you're doing better than that."

Noah shrugged his shoulders and bounced Beth on his knee, steadying her with his hands. The room was filled with her giggles.

"Been better, been worse," Noah cooed happily up at his daughter.

Rachel couldn't help but smile, but turned her eyes abruptly to Quinn, who watched with a bittersweet eye. She went to say something – to comfort her maybe – but found herself distracted by pair of familiar brown eyes staring out of the corner of her eye. Shelby smiled reflexively when Rachel looked at her, and she flashed one back.

They were all giving the same kind of smiles, she noted. Stiff, not really genuine. Well, except when they smiled at Beth. Rachel could feel the tension twisting her gut, but in comparison to the other night, this was bearable. This was just awkward, no one was holding a gun to her head. No one was dying. And that made it a far better situation to be in.

So Rachel could look at Beth's three parents, one of whom she'd made out with twice, one of whom she was currently having serious feelings for, and one of whom was her own mother, and it wasn't all that horrible. She wondered if Noah and Quinn felt the same way, though she doubted that Noah ever really felt very uncomfortable with the whole thing, given that he'd slept with both of Beth's mothers now without a care.

Quinn, on the other hand…

"I was hoping to see you soon," Shelby said suddenly, and Rachel again tore her gaze from Quinn to find her mother shifting unsteadily closer. "I'm…very glad you're all right. When we heard the news report, I…"

Rachel waited, but nothing was forthcoming. Shelby couldn't say it. Again. She had been in a traumatic, death-inducing experience, and Shelby still couldn't express…anything.

"Well, I am perfectly fine, thanks to Quinn." Shelby's puzzled look pressed Rachel on. "She saved my life. She carried me to the elevator before the explosion."

Shelby's gaze turned to the stoic blonde, who seemed to feel the attention. Quinn looked back over at them, perfect blonde eyebrow arching over her lashes and those hypnotic hazel eyes. It left Rachel with a blush on her cheeks, not for the first time, but now she fully realized the source of the heat. That eyebrow was sexy.

Rachel lifted her hands to cool her cheeks.

"Thank you," Shelby murmured, to Quinn now, though she was hardly paying any mind. Rather, she was watching Rachel curiously, which of course only made her feel redder. "For saving my daughter."

Finally, Quinn looked Shelby in the eye. "You don't need to thank me. She's my friend."

Rachel was sure she would combust if Quinn kissed her at the moment. But of course, no kiss was coming, not in front of Noah and Shelby and Beth. Instead Quinn just looked her over, which, Rachel discovered, was torture enough on its own. She hardly even heard Shelby when she spoke to her again.

"I really am so grateful that you're all right."

Quinn glanced away, back to Beth and Noah, and Rachel looked back at Shelby, blinking once before she realized the earnestness on her face. She sobered, cooling herself down swiftly with thoughts of the almost-reception. She managed a tiny smile.

"Me, too. Thank you."

Shelby made a motion, hesitant and halting, but Rachel gathered what she wanted after a moment. A hug. She smiled that stiff smile again, opened her arms, and leaned into Shelby for possibly thirty seconds. She felt a few pats on her back and then pulled away. Shelby was smiling at her, as though it wasn't as awkward for her as it had been for Rachel.

Maybe it hadn't been. She was, after all, the one who kept leaving, the one who kept walking away. It was always less awkward for the break-upper than the break-upee. Which was why, Rachel reminded herself, she had to wait for Finn to come to her. No matter how much she wanted to see that he was well again.

Then again, what if he never came to her? Not that it mattered, he'd see her whether he liked it or not – after all, she was still Kurt's best friend. Unless Kurt decided to dump her as his best friend after everything. Though she doubted that. They were bonded in an irreplaceable way.

But now that Kurt and Blaine were married, and Mr. Hummel was gone, what would happen to that family? It was utterly strange to think of. This sort of family right in front of her, strange as it was, was more intact after this crisis than Kurt's. As a matter of fact, this family was closer. As far as Rachel knew, Shelby hadn't been back or made any contact since she left, and she and Quinn hadn't been on great terms.

Now here they all were, in the same room, bonding over Beth's joy. Noah turned Beth about on his lap, to face Rachel.

"Have you met Rachel, Beth?" he asked, patting her tummy.

She just giggled and waved again, and Rachel smiled. She hadn't inherited her mother's hazel eyes, but they sparkled just the same, and it was just as irresistible in the two year old as in her mother.

"Hi again, Beth." She reached out to give Beth's waving hand a little shake.

"Can you say, 'hi, Rachel'?" Noah jogged her up and down a bit.

"Hi, Ray-shell," she said shyly, and Noah tickled her sides.

"She hasn't managed a few sounds yet," Shelby explained while Rachel teased Beth's neck and straightened back up, smiling. "She wasn't able to say Quinn at all, actually, so we tried Lucy. She decided Lulu was easier."

Rachel couldn't help but grin, looking up at Quinn, who was most decidedly not looking at her. "Lulu. That's cute." She bent closer to Beth's level again. "Well, you can call me whatever you want, cutie pie."

Beth giggled again, and the tension in the room was reprieved for another moment.

#

"You're so good with kids," Rachel marveled as Quinn shut the door behind them.

Shelby had taken Beth away almost twenty minutes ago, after allowing Quinn some time holding her as well. Naptime had come and gone by then and Beth was yawning and cranky, so none of them complained too much when Shelby gathered her things to go. Especially since she promised to be back soon, having decided, evidently, that Noah and Quinn and even herself were more prepared for the situation this time around.

Noah himself had gotten tired after that, drowsy with pain meds the nurse came to administer, and so Quinn and Rachel wandered out of the room together.

"I would hope I'm good with her, she's my daughter," Quinn teased wryly.

Rachel bumped her shoulder, stopping her in the hall. "Not just with her. I noticed it with Sam's little brother and sister, too. They adored you."

Quinn only shrugged. "They needed someone around, I was – "

"Okay, stop," Rachel giggled, bringing a finger up to Quinn's lips. "I'm not going to let you humble your way out of this one. You are amazing with kids, deal with it."

Quinn smiled under her finger, and Rachel drank in those sparkling hazel eyes with a throbbing pulse. She wanted to kiss her all over again, knew it was probably written all over her face, but as comfortable as Quinn had been in private, Rachel wasn't certain of her boundaries in public. With her boyfriends, she hadn't seemed particularly into PDA except for holding hands, leaning against their shoulders, and the occasional hallway kiss – and even those usually only spurred by mistletoe.

Besides, they had only just started 'dating,' or whatever they were doing now. Actually, it occurred to Rachel, they hadn't even said what they were doing. They hadn't even agreed to do anything about their feelings, only stated that they existed. Of course, Quinn had said 'slow,' which was in its own way encouraging, because it implied they had something to take slow, but then –

Quinn grabbed her hand. "Rachel."

She jumped, blinking blurry eyes to peer up at Quinn's intent face.

"Where did you go just now?" Quinn scanned her closely, and Rachel felt for a moment like a bug under a microscope, until she felt Quinn's soothing thumb on the back of her hand.

Rachel cleared her throat. "I just…realized that we haven't exactly talked about…what we are, that's all."

Quinn dropped their hands down then, and for a moment Rachel thought she was going to let go completely and walk away, but then she was tugging at her hand, threading their fingers together. Rachel followed along obediently, peering up at her curiously while they walked, and Quinn… Well, Quinn wore a peculiar look. Brow furrowed, lips in a thin line. Thinking.

"I'm pushing, aren't I?" Rachel grimaced.

"No." Quinn stopped again and faced her. "But I don't know what to tell you. You know how I feel about you. But I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow or the next day or how either of us is going to react to it. Right now our lives are…" She took a deep breath and blew it out. "In turmoil. And they're going to be for a while, whether or not Gabriel comes back. Things have changed, permanently, and the changes are still taking hold."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. "So you're saying…we might not be anything because we might not last through the changes?"

Quinn rolled her shoulders, tilting her head uncomfortably. "Kind of. Something else could happen and we could end up closer or farther apart and it could redefine…everything, it's just the way it is."

"That's not just right now, though, Quinn, that's life," Rachel pointed out. "It's unpredictable. Yes, crazy things are happening right now, because a crazy man came into our lives and took our friend away. But things happen all the time and couples have to react to them, and sometimes it changes the relationship. But we've already been through so much, Quinn, and I'm not just talking about Gabriel, or you saving me. Fights over Finn," she said slowly, moving closer to catch Quinn's eyes, "secrets, prom nights. Your accident."

Quinn lifted her head then, eyeing Rachel. "I never blamed you."

"But I do." She bit her lip. "Look, I'm not trying to make you be with me when you don't want to be, I'm – "

"That's not – " She stopped, pursing her lips. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

"But you don't want to label it," Rachel tried, questioning more than anything.

Quinn hesitated. "I want…to let things settle down. To process, and to spend…more time together."

"You think I'm making this decision based off what happened. Just like Finn. Just like Kurt," Rachel said, frowning. "Of course it's partly off of fear, Quinn, I won't lie to you and say that being a hostage and having a gun held to my head had nothing to do with it, because it did. That, and losing Mercedes, it told me that I have been wasting time, and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to die not knowing what it's like to have you kiss me and send me flowers and make me breakfast and all those silly little things that couples do, because I…I feel so strongly for you, and I realize it more, the more time I spend with you."

"You're not…you're not going to die, short term decisions like that are – "

"You don't know that," Rachel cut in. She sighed. "You can't look me in the eye and tell me I'm not going to die tomorrow, because I could. You could. Do you know how easily you could've died in that accident?" She found herself shifting closer. "And we would've never gotten our chance. Is that what you want?"

Quinn peered at her, then slowly shook her head. "No."

"Then can you just…trust that I am making this decision, fully aware of what it means? Can you trust me?" Rachel stared up at her eyes, biting down on her lower lip as she begged and even prayed a little.

Finally, Quinn nodded and husked, "I can trust you."

Rachel smiled and rose up a bit, enough to kiss Quinn's cheek. "Thank you."

She stroked the opposite cheek, nudging her nose into the pale skin of her neck as she felt Quinn's arms encircle her again, snuggling in deep. A breath of her sweetness had Rachel's eyes closing, listening to the steady pulsing of her heart.

"We're dating," she heard Quinn grunt.

She peeked up at her, half-laughing. "What?"

"Dating." Quinn cocked her eyebrow, and Rachel's cheeks went aflame again. "Unless that's unsatisfactory to you."

Rachel shook her head a little, beaming. "No, it's not."

Quinn looked at her with those intense, sparkling eyes for so long Rachel thought she might explode if Quinn didn't kiss her. But finally she let her go and took her hand instead, walking side by side with her to the waiting room, and Rachel couldn't help the little bounce in her step. Until she felt Quinn come to a very final halt next to her and glanced first up to her with concern, and then across the room to where Quinn was staring.

"Dad?"


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It had been a long time since Quinn had seen her father. Since the night he kicked her out, as a matter of fact. Maybe she'd seen him, or thought she'd seen him, once or twice after that. In the grocery store, on the street. Then her mother kicked him out and took her back, and he moved to Colorado, to be closer to her sister, maybe. Probably.

So it seemed strange to be looking at him now. Standing there next to Rachel's dads, her own mother, still in a heavy winter coat from his trip, and underneath it was a neat, pressed business suit. He was stiff and straight-backed, but he was staring at Quinn the way she stared at him. Taking in her growth and her short hair and her black shirt and pants the way she was taking him in. Only there was something close to awe on his face, and he made a move forward.

Quinn stepped back. He stopped, laced his fingers together at his waist.

"Quinn…you look…so grown up." He smiled a little.

His eyes traveled down again, and she didn't have to look to know he was spying her hand still locked with Rachel's. Quinn held fast, and he looked back up at her.

She pursed her lips. "Why are you here?"

He seemed at a loss, all of a sudden, so her mother stepped forward, "I told you he was trying to get a flight out, honey."

Quinn just cocked her eyebrow, figuring that would speak for itself. Sure, her mother had _said_ he was stuck in Denver, but she assumed, offhand, that it was a lie. Fabricated by him, an excuse for not being there after his daughter was held hostage by armed men – his ex-daughter, that is. Or by her mother, to make Quinn feel better somehow. But his presence now spoke the truth.

"Perhaps we should – " one of Rachel's fathers spoke up suddenly, and the other nodded quickly.

"Yes, I think we should," and the two slipped away, down the hall.

Quinn felt Rachel's hand start to loosen from her own, and reluctantly released her, folding her arms instead as she turned to face the brunette rather than her parents.

"You can go with them, I'll be fine," she muttered, seeing Rachel's hesitation. "Are you staying over again tonight?"

Rachel glanced from Quinn to her parents. "I don't want to, I mean, if you have family stuff to deal with, then – "

"It's all right," her father said suddenly. "I'm staying at a hotel for the time being, and I'm sure Quinn would prefer having a friend around, ah…" He paused, then smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know all of Quinn's friends, you are…?"

"Well, she wasn't when you were around," Quinn spat reflexively.

He said nothing, but clasped his hands behind his back. Her mother shifted from foot to foot.

"Rachel. I'm Rachel. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fabray."

She didn't offer her hand, only nodded, and he dipped his chin in return.

"It's my pleasure. Rachel. Perhaps we can get better acquainted soon." He straightened, hit upon with an idea. "I'll take you all out to dinner, perhaps…on Friday?"

"Mercedes' funeral is on Friday," Quinn hissed, and he hesitated again.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes, Mercedes. The friend who took me in after you kicked me out."

Again, he was silent for a long moment. "Then perhaps Sunday. A big dinner after church."

Quinn's voice dropped to steel. "Rachel is Jewish, she doesn't attend church."

He faltered, sighed, regrouped, but Rachel beat him to words.

"I-I don't mind. I'll come with you, it'll be nice," she assured Quinn, smiling. She reached to pet Quinn's hand, murmuring, "It'll be nice."

Quinn only raised her eyebrows, and her mother clapped her hands together.

"Lovely, then it's settled. Sunday it is," she said briskly. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to get settled in, Russell, why don't I drive you to the hotel? The girls would like more time with their friends, I know."

Her father nodded, still watching Quinn and Rachel. "Right. Thank you, Judy. I'll see you later on, Quinn. Rachel, lovely to meet you again."

"You, too, Mr. Fabray."

Quinn stared blankly at him until her parents disappeared down the hall with her father's luggage. Rachel tugged on her hand to catch her attention then, peering at her searchingly. Quinn tilted her head, waiting for the comment that was so obviously ready on Rachel's tongue. Finally, she seemed to find what she was looking for and smiled.

"I haven't seen you look that cold in a long time. I was worried I lost you for a second," Rachel explained, cupping Quinn's cheeks with warm hands.

Quinn couldn't help but lean into the touches, the comfort. "It's been a long time since I've seen him," she said simply.

Rachel bit her lip. "Since the night…?"

She nodded. "You don't have to come to church, or dinner, you know. He's just nosing to see…what's between us."

"I'm not so sure about that." She smiled, dropping her hands to take Quinn's. "I think maybe, he knows facing him alone right now isn't an option. That maybe you need me."

Quinn's brow furrowed. She had a hard time seeing her father's motives bending that way. The way he had kept staring at them, noticing the hand holds but saying nothing of them. He had to want to know more, to find out if his ex-daughter was still as much of a disappointment as when he left. She didn't want Rachel in the crossfire once he knew she was.

"This is the part where you tell me you need me, by the way," Rachel whispered, bringing her down to earth and putting a smile on her face, despite everything.

"I might need you," Quinn drawled, after a moment.

Rachel just grinned. "I'll take it."

She drew her thumb along the tops of Rachel's before breathing, "If you want to get back to Kurt – "

"I don't think he's quite finished with his rage spiral," she cut in, shrugging.

"Rage spiral?" Her eyebrow lifted.

She winced. "I told him about the breakup, and by extension, about you. He's not very happy right now."

Quinn sighed. "Well, he's never particularly liked me, especially now."

"Why now?"

"I…expressed that I didn't exactly understand the urge to commit suicide, despite my experiences. He overheard."

"And, like Kurt, decided you were bringing judgment down on Karofsky and you could never understand the pain of the gays," Rachel finished, smiling sadly.

Quinn nodded. "Something like that."

"When you've been through so much." She lifted her hand, threading fingers into Quinn's hair. "This just proves it." She nodded toward where Quinn's parents had disappeared to.

She sighed through her nose, closing her eyes as Rachel's fingers sifted through her hair. "Yeah. You know, Mercedes…" She licked her lips and opened her eyes. "She was the only person, aside from you, who ever…treated my problems like problems."

Rachel nodded slowly, sliding her hand down Quinn's neck. "What are you thinking about?"

"Sam told me the Jones'…wanted to know if I want to say something, at the funeral," she muttered after a moment.

"That's lovely," she cooed, smiling.

"I told Sam I wasn't sure. I'm not sure I could stand up in front of her family and friends…and her casket, and talk about her without… But I also don't know if it's a disservice to her not to try. After all she's done for me."

Rachel nodded her head in understanding. "Well, it's entirely up to you. But maybe it would be a good way of getting closure? Saying goodbye? Something for you, not just for her or her family."

Quinn considered that for a moment. It would be an opportunity to honor Mercedes' memory, to say her piece about a friend who meant so much to her. Not a way of turning around her failure to save her, because nothing could do that. But it would be a way of apologizing. Of starting to forgive the mistake she made, because if she never let it go, she'd never be able to move forward. She'd be as stuck as she was junior year, just as miserable. Mercedes wouldn't want that.

Rachel was beaming at her.

"What?"

"You just opened up to me," she said happily, poking her lightly in the chest.

Quinn grabbed her hands, lacing their fingers together. "Oh, is that what you think?"

Rachel giggled, willingly moving closer as Quinn tugged at her. "Mmhm. I do."

"Isn't this cozy?"

Quinn sighed. Santana grinned before bending to get herself and Brittany a coffee each, and Rachel dropped Quinn's hands, clearing her throat as she straightened out the sweater.

"Well, don't mind us. We're just enjoying the show," Santana added.

Quinn shook her head. "Exactly how long have you been standing there?"

"Oh, relax, Fabray. It doesn't matter how much I've seen, Berry's goo-goo eyes tell me everything I need to know."

She passed a cup to Brittany and they both made their way over to Quinn and Rachel.

"By the way, nice sweater, Berry."

Rachel flushed. "I stayed over at her place last night – "

"I can see that."

"For sweet lady kisses?" Brittany smiled.

"Nothing happened," Rachel burst out, adjusting the sweater. Quinn looked at her, eyebrow cocked, and she seemed to backtrack. "Well, things…happened, but not the thing you're thinking happened."

"It really doesn't matter what you tell me, I'm going to tell everyone you had sex anyway," Santana admitted. "Q, we need to talk."

"I doubt that."

"About what the cops said when they came over to my house this morning."

Quinn straightened to attention then, and she spied Rachel adjusting similarly out of the corner of her eye.

"They came to all the families to give them warnings about what Gabriel, to increase security."

"Some security, a patrol car in the area and one guard at the hospital?"

"They said they think he's running, so there's no need for anything more than that," Rachel pointed out.

Santana frowned and leveled her gaze at Quinn. "Do you think he's running?"

"I think…it's possible."

"Meaning no. I don't, either, the guy's _crazy_. I think it's more likely he comes back to kill all of us." Santana gripped Brittany's hand as she quivered.

"All right. So we have doubts. I still don't know why we're talking about this."

"Because first of all, we need to warn everybody."

"There's no need to start a mass panic over some doubts," Quinn scoffed.

"Not_ everybody_, everybody. But everyone who's still alive who was there that night."

"Oh, so just a small time panic. Santana, we're not cops. We're probably dead wrong, so why cause a fuss over nothing?"

"Okay, yeah, we're not cops, but _we_ spent the most time with the guy. What do the cops know about him? Think about it. They've identified all the guards from that night, right?"

Quinn's eyebrow quirked. "I haven't heard anything about the guards."

"Well, the cops who came over today told us they were saying nothing. Even Mary the bitch, who's been with them the longest thanks to us, hasn't cracked about Gabriel. They know exactly squat about him except what we the hostages have told them. That means his codename, what he was wearing that night, his eye color, and a vague idea of how batshit he is. But they weren't in the room, we were."

"That doesn't mean we know criminal psychology like they do," Rachel said, shaking her head.

"Okay, fine. You both want to play skeptics? That's fine. But there's one thing you have to admit. The cops know nothing. Not who he is, not where he is, not where he'll go next. And that puts us all in danger."

Brittany was frowning deeply, and Santana gripped her hand a little more firmly, casting a glare at both Rachel and Quinn before she said, "C'mon, let's go see Puck."

The two passed between them, and Rachel stepped closer once again. "You think she's right?"

Quinn hesitated. "I think Gabriel's capable of anything at this point." She sighed before gripping Rachel's shoulders. "I really need you to be careful."

She nodded. "I will be."

"Good. Okay. I guess…I'll drop in on Mr. Schuester, are you going back to Kurt now, or…?"

"No, I want to stay with you," she murmured, gripping Quinn's arm.

Quinn took her hand gently. "Okay."

#

They wound up spending most of the rest of the day in Mr. Schuester's room, watching hours and hours of Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and even a daytime soap opera. It turned out that without Ms. Pillsbury's company, Mr. Schuester was rather lonely. Finn hadn't been visiting anyone since the day before, and most of his other students were either unable to get up or at home being fawned on by their family members.

Not that no one had been back around to see everyone. The junior glee members, Sugar, Joe, Harmony – they all had stopped by to see everyone, including Mr. Schuester. But they didn't stay long. They hadn't been at the wedding. After the death threats, Kurt and Blaine decided only their oldest friends should be allowed to take the risk – most of them eighteen and capable of making the decision without parental interference – and only if they wanted to. They all had, of course.

Ms. Pillsbury was busy offering counseling to those students who needed it, alumni or not. Mr. Schuester said she was even being taken on by some of the guests who had survived the initial shootings for failing the scripture test. He said a lot more than that, of course. Gabbed almost nonstop, in fact, even through the shows he claimed to be interested in. Even Rachel could hardly get a word in edgewise, though they once went off on a tangent about future performances, ideas for the next year.

Quinn just sat and stared at the screen, leaning her elbow on the mattress while the two of them talked and talked. Occasionally she felt Rachel's hand on her back or neck, or fiddling with the ends of her hair, out of Mr. Schuester's view. She looked forward to each little touch, and thought it might've been the only thing keeping her awake after a certain point.

When the nurse brought in Mr. Schuester's dinner, they finally made their escape and found the Berry men in the waiting area. Her mother wasn't back yet, so Rachel's fathers offered to drive them, partly so that Rachel could get decently fitting clothes from home if she was going to stay with Quinn for a while.

Their first stop, however, was Breadstix for dinner. Hiram, the one with the glasses, Quinn had figured out, kept up a running commentary on the drive on the sanctity of radio music, or something or other like that, and Quinn knew instantly where Rachel got her rambling from. The lecture ended once they were seated, however, and all perusing the menu, and it was only then that it occurred to Quinn that she was eating dinner with Rachel's parents.

And that on Sunday, Rachel was set to eat dinner with _her_ parents. Before she could even begin to feel awkward about it, Hiram spoke again.

"So. This is Quinn Fabray," he said, peering at her over the rims of his glasses. He leaned toward his husband. "Were you imagining she'd be this pretty?"

"I had no idea," Leroy answered, seeming amused. "But she certainly is, isn't she?"

Quinn glanced sideways to Rachel. She simply beamed at her.

"Well, she is the heroic type; heroes are always beauties."

"Only in movies, Hiram."

"Well, she could have her own, couldn't she?"

"Not a musical."

"You spoil all my fun. I was about to suggest the always magnificent Megan Hilty for the lead."

"Please, Hiram, I think someone a little closer in age might be more appropriate."

"She's not that aged!"

"In comparison to Quinn."

"Who might you suggest then?"

"Quinn could supply her own vocals," Rachel cut in at last, and Quinn took a moment to recover from the whiplash. "She has a beautiful voice."

Quinn smiled a little in return to the beam Rachel was offering her.

"Besides, she's going to Yale for the drama program."

Hiram perked up. Suddenly, Quinn had a very bad feeling about the rest of the conversation.

"Yale?" He looked at Leroy, eyebrows raised.

"Yale," Leroy hummed, eyeing her.

"The Ivy League Yale?"

"Quinn is brilliantly smart. At the top of our class," Rachel said proudly.

"Yale," Hiram blew out, watching Quinn, who might've crawled under the table if she'd had room to do so. "She's gorgeous, she's smart, she's heroic – what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing," Rachel answered cheerfully. Quinn caught her glance and tried, again, to smile. "Except I think you may be breaking her with embarrassment, Dad."

Hiram snapped his fingers. "That's it. Easily embarrassed. The flaw, we've found it."

Leroy smiled before leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "I'm sorry if we're embarrassing you, but you have to know, after having our baby girl's wedding stalled because of your absence, we were curious. But after this situation, where you not only saved our daughter's life, but Rachel tells us you infiltrated the ranks of those maniacs to save your other friends, including her… We're not only eternally grateful, but _very_ curious to know more about you."

"I would say possibly more than curious," Hiram agreed. "What's more than curious?"

"Inquisitive?" Rachel offered.

"That's it." He snapped his fingers.

Leroy chuckled before addressing Quinn again, almost appealing to her. "We may be a bit eccentric, particularly that one," he nodded toward his husband, "but we mean well."

Quinn glanced at Rachel, finding her smile, and then nodded. "It's okay."

"She speaks!" Hiram smiled. "That _is_ a lovely voice after all."

"Husky alto if I ever heard one," Leroy agreed.

"My dads have _amazing_ ears," Rachel confided to Quinn, grinning widely. "They can pick out someone's range in one sentence."

"Mm, that's better than Puck's talent. Picking out bra sizes with a look," she muttered.

She'd meant it only for Rachel's ears, but the men did, in fact, have very good ears, and suddenly there was a burst of laughter from all the Berrys. Quinn couldn't help but smile.

"I'm afraid that kind of talent wouldn't do us much good," Leroy said pointedly.

"Oh, oh. Except when we still bought Rachel's bras," Hiram countered. "When she was just a growing little lady."

"Dad," Rachel groaned.

"Or you could've started a brassiere store, amaze women for miles around. You'd have made a fortune."

Again, the Berrys were all laughing, and Quinn was suddenly feeling pretty proud of herself.

#

By the time the four of them finished talking, let alone eating, it was dark outside, well into the evening, and Leroy suggested they all get going before Quinn's mother had a coronary with no news of them. This time, Hiram put in a CD of Barbra Streisand's greatest hits, and Quinn was treated to a live performance from all three Berrys all the way to their house, where Rachel pleaded with them to pause it before it got to My Man.

They agreed to make no promises, so Rachel kissed Quinn's cheek and flew out of the car fast, coming back panting and pink-faced, but with a full suitcase. The singing started up with even more gusto to Quinn's house, and she was left with a smile on her face despite everything as she and Rachel slipped out of the car.

"Thank you for dinner, both of you. It's been nice talking to you," she said sincerely, when Hiram rolled down the window.

"And to you," Leroy called.

"We'll have dinner again soon, the four of us. Oh, and your mother, too."

Quinn nodded. "I'm sure she'd love that."

"Night, Papa, Daddy," Rachel said, leaning half into the car to exchange kisses with them, before she popped back down to rejoin Quinn.

They waved them off, music already blasting from the car again, though Hiram waved out the window, and Quinn smiled down at Rachel.

"You liked them," Rachel concluded triumphantly.

Quinn nodded. "I did. But I have to warn you, dinner with my parents isn't going to be nearly so pleasant."

"You don't know that, Quinn, maybe it'll turn out fine." She went to pick up her suitcase, but Quinn grabbed it up first and turned Rachel up the sidewalk toward the house. "Thank you. I know things won't be perfect given your history with your father, but he is offering to take us out and it has to mean something that he's here now, right?"

Quinn shrugged. "I guess."

"Even if it's just that…he still cares about you, despite everything that was said." When she nodded, Rachel pressed on, "So maybe it won't be the best meal ever, but maybe it will be…okay. You have to start somewhere."

"I didn't expect to start again at all," she admitted. "I assumed…the last time I saw him would be, you know, the last time." She stopped on the porch, facing Rachel fully.

"I never expected things to go anywhere with Shelby, either, after the first time she left? I know it's different, because Shelby and I are basically strangers, she didn't raise me and we haven't had years of love and hurt between us – "

"Just because…it's different doesn't mean it doesn't hurt just the same."

Rachel smiled a little. "I know. But maybe now that the door has been opened, you can start building those expectations."

Quinn shook her head. "I don't know if I should expect anything. For all we know he's staying a day and going back to Colorado."

"That's an expectation, too, you know," she teased, before sobering again. "Did you ever expect to make up with your mom?"

She shrugged after a moment. "No. I thought I'd never see her again, too. Or if I did, that it would be just a moment, that she wasn't too scared to say something to me, and then she'd be gone again. But she wasn't the one who kicked me out of the house. She just stood by while it happened."

"Still hurtful," she murmured.

"Not in the same way." Rachel looked puzzled, so Quinn took a breath to say, "It's not like being kicked out was the only thing that ever – "

"Oh!" Her mother smiled beyond Rachel. "We thought we heard voices; come in, girls, it's getting cold outside."

Quinn sighed, offered a brief smile down at Rachel, and ushered her forward. It only occurred to her as they stepped inside that her mother had said 'we,' and her feeling of apprehension was only confirmed when she looked into the living room to see her father leaning back on the couch with a clear glass, making himself right at home.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Quinn's father stood immediately on seeing her there next to Rachel and her mother. He set the glass down on the coffee table, between piles of photo albums lying open there, and smoothed out the patterned sweater he was now wearing. He was trying to smile, but Quinn kept her face carefully blank in return.

"Quinn." He looked about to say something else, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

She looked at her mother. "I thought he was staying at a hotel."

"He is, darling. We just got to reminiscing this afternoon and lost track of the time," she explained. "There are a lot of lovely memories to talk about." She smiled.

"And a lot of bad ones," Quinn answered, and felt Rachel squeeze her hand.

Her father rubbed his palms on his pants. "Well. I should head back."

"I'll drive you then," her mother offered.

"No, no, it's late. The girls look tired. I'll call a cab." He started toward them, and Quinn pulled Rachel to the side, while he tugged on his coat and faced them again. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Judy. Rachel, it's nice seeing you again." He cleared his throat. "Quinn. I want to say…I am so relieved to see that you're okay."

Quinn glanced at his eyes, a darker mirror of her own, as he earnestly stared her down. She nodded, and he went to the door.

"Good night, ladies."

"Good night, Russell."

"Night, Mr. Fabray," Rachel mumbled, stroking Quinn's arm.

The door shut, and Quinn's mother instantly turned to her.

"I know what you're thinking."

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Yes, you are. I'm your mother, I know these things. He just came over to talk, that's all. This is not a sign of him moving back in or anything to come," she said plainly. "He was worried about you, and so was I. And we have a lot of shared memories of you growing up into the wonderful young woman you are today. So we talked. Nothing more. Okay?"

Quinn nodded, as her mother tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Okay. I'm tired. Rachel?" She gave a quick little nod against Quinn's shoulder. "We're going to bed, okay?"

Her mother kissed her cheek. "Okay. Good night. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Good night, Rachel."

Rachel smiled back at her mother before quickly following Quinn up the spiral staircase back into the safety of her room. She seemed content to say nothing, for the time being, so Quinn set the suitcase on the end of her bed and offered Rachel to take the bathroom first. She lay back on the bed once Rachel disappeared beyond the door, breathing in, breathing out.

Quinn could hear Rachel humming even through the door, across the room, even while she was brushing her teeth, and it put something of a smile on her face. Despite being tired, worn out, drained – mentally, physically, and most of all, emotionally. It was one thing to see her father after all this time at the hospital, but to have him in her own home, a home she and her mother had made apart from him… To have him in her life, of which he no longer had any part, it was like opening a window to the old life, now alien to her.

And it was like Pandora 's Box. Each time Quinn saw him she felt cold, bitter, even angry somehow. The open window let those feelings leak back into her, after she had spent so long trying to escape them, to become the better person she at least hoped she was now. She could only pray that nothing else leaked through from the past.

"Quinn."

She lifted her head up partway, to peer across at Rachel in the doorway, clad in a pale pink nightgown, the lace hem on the end barely covering the length of her thighs and the collar dipping to tease at her cleavage.

"Give your mind a break?" she said softly, and Quinn couldn't keep her eyes from wandering as Rachel walked over and then crawled over to her on the bed to rest herself against Quinn's side. "You look exhausted."

Quinn shifted, wrapping her arm around Rachel's shoulders to burrow fingers into the ends of her thick hair. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, before she could stop herself.

Rachel beamed and blushed and hid her face in Quinn's shirt, giggling softly.

"You always have been," she admitted, smiling at the sound of Rachel's muffled, delighted little noises and the feel of her hot breath on her chest. "But I never thought…this would happen."

Rachel lifted her head up enough to rest her chin on Quinn's chest, eyes sparkling. "Neither did I. But I'm really happy it did."

Quinn trailed her fingers down the back of Rachel's neck, stroking the bare patch of her back above the nightgown. "So am I."

Rachel shivered, nuzzling closer and wrapping her arm about Quinn's stomach. The silence, for once, felt comfortable, incredibly enough, listening to the rhythmic music of their soft breaths. It was soothing, at least to Quinn, to lay there with Rachel and not think, hardly move, and just enjoy the company and the warm comfort of each other's bodies.

But it couldn't last forever, especially not with Rachel Berry.

"Earlier," she puffed, and Quinn shifted. "You started to tell me something before your mom came out to get us. You said that being kicked out wasn't the only thing. What else happened?" She traced circles over Quinn's abs.

Quinn sighed. "It's hard to explain. It was nothing…they weren't big things like being kicked out. Or even isolated little events that just seem worse in hindsight. It was every day."

Rachel peered up at her with big, sympathetic brown eyes. "Tell me?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand and dropped it back to her stomach. "I don't know how to explain it. He wasn't a bad father, he loved me and my sister, and when he showed it, things were great. But when you live…in a house where your mother is afraid to speak up, to disagree with him, and when if you do, if he's displeased about something…you learn to be afraid, too."

"What did he do, when he was angry?" Rachel prodded, caressing her fingers.

Quinn shrugged. "Nothing…nothing that bad. But he would yell and when he was done yelling he would be so…_silent_. We'd have an entire dinner, an entire evening sitting in the living room while he watched TV or read, sitting perfectly still and saying nothing. That kind of quiet, it knots up your stomach until you want to…throw up or scream, or both. And it happened more and more, the older we got, especially after my sister went off to college. A question, an innocuous question about milk or work or whatever – could set him off."

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel breathed, and Quinn snuffed back the sudden sting in her eyes.

"There were still good days. A lot of them. But eventually…it gets to the point where even the good days are awful because you're either hoping that things are going to get better and stay better, and then you're disappointed and crushed because one day he just flips a switch. Or you're just waiting for things to get bad again, and the apprehension…ruins every good moment."

They were silent again for a long time, while Rachel squeezed Quinn closer and petted her stomach and hand and hair, even her face. The touches were more comforting than Quinn cared to admit at the moment, and if she had felt the urge to cry in memory of a time when she and her mother were scared to breathe too loudly, it passed.

"No wonder you were always so…so angry, so – "

"Cruel?"

"I wouldn't say that," Rachel murmured.

Quinn shrugged. "It's true, though."

Rachel sighed. "Anyway, it makes sense now. You can't live with tension like that every single day, and not suffer for it, even while you're not around it. And God, when you got pregnant…" She pressed kiss after kiss on Quinn's cheek.

Quinn closed her eyes to the affection. "Yeah, well. That was my own fault."

"Don't say that," Rachel mumbled, between kisses. "Noah took advantage of your innocence and he shouldn't have."

"Yeah, you know, we don't have to talk about it, or anything…" She cleared her throat.

Rachel nodded against her cheek. "I'm sorry. I know, you've opened up a lot today. And it has been a _long_ day, for all of us, especially you."

Quinn shifted to look her in the eye. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I guess I'm just excited to know you." She smiled.

"I thought you said we already know a lot about each other," she teased softly.

Rachel lightly batted her hand. "You know what I mean. To know the rest. I've learned a lot already in the past couple days."

"Like what?"

"Like you would do anything to protect the people you care about. And I'm one of them. And you loved Mercedes deeply, which tells me that you are not only eternally grateful when you do let someone help you, but that you are a loyal friend." Quinn glanced away, but Rachel pressed on, "And you are amazing with kids, which I already suspected, but the way you are with Beth just proved it. And when you seem angry, it might only be because you're hurt." She paused when Quinn sighed. "Not to mention, you are really good with your hands, you always smell like something sweet, and your kisses are like high notes. They take your breath away."

Quinn was well aware that she was blushing, but she couldn't bring herself to look away now that Rachel had her eyes held and the pad of her finger traced over Quinn's bottom lip. She only hesitated a moment, to drink in the look of longing on Rachel's face, before she leaned in to press her mouth over Rachel's, sucking in a breath through her nose.

Rachel slipped her finger out of the way and met Quinn with an eagerness that surprised her, but she was quick to return the vigor. When she tasted the minty toothpaste on Rachel's tongue, she entertained the idea of rolling over, of dropping her hand down to the back of Rachel's thigh and then curving up beneath that little nightgown, maybe underneath whatever panties she had on. But it was only for a moment before Quinn remembered herself and pulled away to look Rachel in the eye, taking in her blissful smile.

She couldn't resist the urge to lean forward, kiss Rachel's nose, but afterward she managed to convince herself to lie back again, to simply curl Rachel closer with the arm around her shoulders and to breathe in the quiet.

"You haven't changed yet," Rachel murmured, tugging lightly on her shirt.

Quinn shook her head. "I don't feel like moving now."

She felt Rachel's smile against her. "Mm. Good night, Quinn."

"Night." Quinn tilted her head, to press one more kiss to Rachel's forehead, and then stretched her arm up to turn off the lamplight, leaving them in the quiet dark.

#

By the time either of them woke the next morning, it was nearing the afternoon hours, and Quinn's nose was being teased by the scent of bacon and pancakes. She was quite sure she could have slept on into the afternoon had it not been for that smell, comfortable as she was. Though she had no idea, once she took a look at their positioning, how it was possible she was comfortable.

Rachel's upper half was face down, practically hanging off the bed, but her lower half was decidedly on her side, with her rump pressing against Quinn's hips. Their legs were a tangled mess of their own – with the blanket curled in between somewhere as well – so Quinn found it impossible to start moving without disturbing and waking Rachel, who wiggled as she woke, bringing a flush to Quinn's cheeks.

"Morning," she husked, and Rachel rolled from her stomach to her side and back, leaning herself heavily against Quinn.

She smiled. "Good morning."

Quinn lifted a hand to curl the stray strands of hair out of Rachel's face, twisting her foot to get the blanket out of the way at once. "How did you sleep?"

"Amazingly." Rachel stretched her arms up, flattening her palms against the headboard, while Quinn tugged down her pink nightgown over her hips. "How about you?"

She had just opened her mouth to answer, of course, when her mother gave one knock before practically bursting into the room.

"Good morning, girls, breakf – oh! Well, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Hm." She stared, folding her arms in front of her for a moment, before she turned to leave just as quickly as she had come in. "Breakfast is ready downstairs when you're…finished." She attempted a smile and then abruptly disappeared.

Quinn nearly faceplanted until she realized she would be doing so right into Rachel's cleavage. She stuck with a groan instead, raising her hand up to her forehead while Rachel wriggled and tried to fix her nightgown, as though it would do her any good now.

"Oh, God. Quinn, I'm so sorry." Rachel's cheeks were bright red.

She shook her head. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well…I…for making your mother think – and she might not – I mean." Rachel huffed. "I don't want her to be angry with you and I really don't want to not be allowed to stay with you anymore."

Quinn kissed Rachel's forehead. "It's okay."

"How is it okay?"

"I'm going to talk to her, okay? You just take a shower, relax, come down when you're ready."

Rachel frowned skeptically, but she nodded.

#

It didn't take long to clear up the misunderstanding. A simple explanation was always best and so her mother's embarrassment swiftly disappeared as soon as Quinn said that they had just woken up and were readjusting. Which was true, even if Rachel's wriggling rear and her tempting breasts right under her nose were driving her bonkers.

So her mom was just as polite and chipper with Rachel as she had been the past two nights, and Rachel eased back into her comfort zone while they all sat for what turned out to be more of a brunch than breakfast. Rachel sat at Quinn's desk, checking her email while Quinn showered and changed and prepared herself for the day, and soon after they all piled into the car to head back to the hospital again, where Leroy and Hiram would be meeting them. As well as, her mother assured, her father.

But all that fell out of Quinn's current thoughts when she saw the swarm of TV crews outside the hospital. It hadn't been unusual to see them, the news networks all gathered to get their take on the story of the hostages held for unholy homosexuality – they were outside the police lines at the hotel, catching interviews with family members and at least one hostage, Nick. They had also been at the hospital, following up, pestering police, doctors, and more family members.

Their numbers, however, had been dwindling since the hotel exploded and the story lost public interest. So it was surprising to see a whole squall of them outside the hospital once again, and Quinn's stomach dropped with worry. Another hostage had died, perhaps – Kurt's transfusions had gone wrong, or Puck had too much pressure on his brain. Or Gabriel was back.

When they all slipped out of the car, however, Quinn hand in hand with Rachel again, the focus of the vultures turned on them. Microphones were shoved in their faces, lights shone in their eyes, and she felt her mother gripping the back of her neck to keep her moving forward despite the noise and the seemingly endless questions that came from a million directions, all of them drowning each other out.

"Miss Fabray, what were you thinking when you – "

"Were you able to get anyone out – "

" – did Miss Fabray save you from the explosion – "

A hand grabbed Quinn's free one, the one trying to protect her eyes rather than tucking Rachel under her arm and ushering her forward first. They were pulled out of the crowd, all three of them, and into – in comparison – the relative quiet of the ER. Quinn blinked her blinded eyes a few times before she recognized Anderson standing there guarding them and glanced back to see a few officers blocking the press from entering the building.

"What on earth is going on?" her mother balked behind her.

"That was thrilling!" Rachel commented cheerfully, in contrast, then blushed when Anderson and Quinn's mom stared at her.

"If you'll follow me, we have a recording of exactly what's going on," Anderson said at length, stopping once they were in an empty patient room.

He turned on the TV, plugged a port into it, used his phone to skip back a bit, and then hit play. A local newscaster appeared on the screen, shuffling her papers in front of her.

"A new development in the wedding hostage crisis in Lima, phone footage has been leaked revealing a silent hero from the night the hotel was taken over. Let's take a look."

A shaky camera zoomed in from behind what appeared to be some kind of foliage to find the unfocused face of Leroy Berry, as he said clearly, "You not only saved our daughter's life, but Rachel tells us you infiltrated the ranks of those maniacs to save your other friends, including her…" The camera turned with nauseating speed to find Quinn's listening face.

"You've got to be shitting me," Quinn snapped, and Anderson paused the recording.

"Quinn," her mother said softly.

"I can't believe someone was watching us," Rachel gasped, gripping Quinn's hand all the tighter.

"It's all over every station," Anderson explained, turning off the TV and sliding his phone into his pocket. "And they've got a lot of information."

Quinn turned her glower from the TV to him. "What kind of information?"

"So far, they're dishing that you were head cheerleader, president of a celibacy club until you got pregnant, had a baby. That you turned your life around, top of your class, going to Yale, and now you're a local hero who saved two gay men's daughter and risked your life to keep other hostages safe." Anderson set his hands on his hips. "Now they didn't get any of this from the police. Who else has this kind of information about you?"

Quinn glanced from her mother's worried face to Rachel's and sighed. "Anyone who goes to McKinley High School knows the first half. As for the hostage situation, it doesn't matter, because the recording already tells them that, they don't need to find someone who knows. Unless they have more details than what's on the footage."

"Not that we know of."

"What do you know?" her mom asked suddenly.

"We know there's an anonymous party they're buying the footage off of, but we can't get our hands on the source because they have protection of sources to back them up."

"Could it be Gabriel?" Rachel burst out, anxiously gripping Quinn's arm.

Anderson hesitated. "Doubt it. He's probably still on the run, but just in case, we are going to put extra patrols in your area."

Quinn sighed, pursing her lips. "So how are you going to catch this source?"

"The plan is to bait him. Either meet him in person or get the IP address of the emails he's sending and track him down from there. But I'm afraid that's a low priority task. He's already let the footage go, so there's no bargaining with him to keep it off the market, and unless he continues to film you and leak more footage, he's no more danger to you."

"What about Breadstix security cameras?"

"We've got them, someone is reviewing the footage, but we're not hopeful for a clear shot. The place is still using tapes, really old tech stuff." Anderson paused. "Do you have any idea who might do something like this?"

Quinn's eyebrow cocked. "Oh, I have an idea."

"Who?" Rachel blurted in surprise, and Quinn simply gave her a pointed look. She deflated. "Oh…oh."

Anderson and Quinn's mom looked between them, utterly confused.

Quinn sighed. "His name is Jacob Ben Israel. I'd check him out first."

Anderson nodded slowly then and turned to speak into his radio. Quinn glanced down to Rachel, who tried to smile under a freshly wrinkled nose, and reached up to lightly tap the tip of it. Rachel couldn't help but smile then.

When Anderson turned back to them, it was with a sigh. "Okay. Here's the deal. You are probably going to be the middle of a media circus for a while, especially because they're going to be digging for details about what you did, how you did it. It's up to you, now that it's all out, whether you want to give interviews or not. And hopefully, our friend Gabe won't decide to come back and lay out any revenge."

Quinn nodded slowly. "Okay. Thanks."

Anderson nodded back and started toward the door.

"Anderson."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Don't let them find out about Santana's involvement."

Once he nodded again, he promptly headed out of the room, acknowledging her mom and Rachel on his way.

"Are you all right, darling?" her mother asked first, stepping around to look at her properly.

Quinn glanced from her to Rachel, both of them peering at her with such concern. "I'm fine. Really. I don't like it, but there's nothing we can do about it now."

Her mother sighed, glanced to Rachel, and kissed Quinn's cheek. "All right. I'm going to see if all the fathers have made it in safely after the ambush."

Once she, too, shut the door behind her, Rachel clung harder to Quinn's arm, then around her neck when Quinn turned to reassure her. She hugged Rachel close, arms snug around her waist, and breathed in the vanilla smell with gusto.

"Quinn, this is bad, this is really bad," she groaned.

"It's okay," Quinn muttered, and Rachel leaned back to look at her immediately.

"How can you say that? What if you're right, and Gabriel hasn't even left the area? What if he sees your face on the news and he knows that you are the one who told the police about the detonator and then blended in with his men without him even knowing and _shot him_? He's going to be so angry, Quinn, he'll come after you, he'll – "

Quinn gripped Rachel's shoulders. "Rachel. The police are right. He's running. He's out of here."

"But you said – "

"I know what I said. You have to forget what I said."

Rachel shook her head slowly. "I can't. We've only had two proper days together."

"Rachel. He won't get to me, or you."

"How can you know that? They're not even taking proper precautions, they're just sending a squad car by your house a little more often, and you could – you could…"

Quinn stroked Rachel's hair out of her face, tilting her chin up with her other hand to make Rachel's tearful eyes meet hers. "Don't cry. Nothing's happening to me, okay? Didn't you say we're supposed to enjoy what time we have together? We can't do that if you're scared."

"It's not fair to use my own words against me," Rachel sniffled.

"I don't play fair," Quinn teased, and then gathered her into another hug. "Everything's fine. He's gone. We have as much time as you want with me."

Quinn felt Rachel's brow furrow slightly, but she said nothing. The two of them settled into another silence, this one tinged with unspoken anxieties and uncertainties.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It took a while for Rachel to be comfortable letting Quinn go. Despite all the reassurances, and even the cops' official stance on Gabriel's status, she couldn't block out the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, like the one she'd had about her NYADA audition or Kurt and Blaine's wedding. Something bad was going to happen again and she didn't want it to happen to Quinn.

But Quinn refused to even entertain the idea. Not aloud, anyway, where acknowledging the possibilities and the danger she was now in would frighten Rachel even more. As always, she was the steady one, prepared to deal with everything with calm and poise. Rachel only hoped that with time Quinn would begin to open herself more easily to Rachel, not just when she was overwhelmed by everything that was going on and unable to maintain those steel walls she kept up.

If they were given more time. If Gabriel didn't snatch everything away like he'd snatched Mercedes and Mr. Hummel.

Rachel had been so worried about Quinn's father's reappearance breaking them apart – and then so thrilled when Quinn seemed unfazed when it came to their budding relationship – she'd almost entirely forgotten about the other threat to their happiness. In part because of all that, of fearing Quinn would pull her hand away the instant she saw her father, refuse to even look at Rachel, and then being so happy when she didn't, but also because she had spent the days since the explosion convincing herself that Gabriel was forever gone.

The cops had said he was leaving, heading out of town and away, and Rachel wanted to believe it, despite knowing it would mean he would always be out there and despite trusting Quinn's perception, her instincts. It seemed the better alternative to ever seeing him again, and Rachel clung to it, to the idea that that part of their lives – however brief in the span of things – was over, and though they would mourn the losses, she could go on with Quinn. Remembering Mercedes always and the lesson that you had to grab your happiness while you could.

But now everyone knew the role Quinn had played. Maybe not the specifics, but it was out there for everyone, including Gabriel. The other guards were either dead or in jail, awaiting trial, so Rachel could forget about them and their vengeance, but not Gabriel. Gabriel was out there somewhere, able to come back and strike, because Santana was right. The cops didn't know who he was, where he lived, where he worked – they knew _nothing_. And that gave Gabriel all the advantage he needed to come back and kill the person who had ruined all of his plans.

Rachel could only hope he was too smart to come back and do that, that he knew better than to return to the scenes of his crimes, to let well enough alone and go elsewhere to spread his insanity. But that was just it. Gabriel was insane. And intelligence combined with insanity made for one hell of a dangerous man, the kind that could take Quinn away from her and everyone who loved her without the cops even knowing he'd been there.

The idea of losing Quinn had been a frightening one ever since the first time it happened. When she was struck in that accident and the glee club sat in the hospital waiting room, just like they had after the explosion, just waiting for news that Quinn would live – Rachel had lost her breath. For the hours they waited, she felt every second on the verge of throwing up or passing out, or both.

And then when she was sent out to be shot and killed, Rachel lost her mind for a moment, attacking Gabriel without thought. This was all before Rachel realized, with a kiss, that Quinn meant more to her than she had even known. More than she had tried to express to Quinn on their final prom night. So now, knowing that Quinn was not only all she'd been to Rachel before, but that she could be even more to her, and they'd only had so little time to explore it – Rachel was terrified. She felt like she might lose everything this time.

Rachel wanted to tell Quinn all of this, to express the fear lurking in the back of her mind, even as they parted from their embrace and Quinn went to see their parents, and Rachel went down the hall to Kurt's room to see if he was over his little temper tantrum. But she had a feeling that Quinn would hear none of it, and like before, stop her before she even got started, because not only did Quinn not want her to be afraid, she didn't believe the depth of Rachel's feelings.

Rachel kept the door half in front of her, as a shield, as she peered in on Kurt and Blaine. "Please tell me you're over it, because I really need someone to talk to."

Kurt looked over and frowned, and for a moment she thought he might start spewing at her again, but instead he waved for her to come in. Blaine dropped off the edge of the bed and patted Rachel's shoulder.

"I'm going to go grab us some coffee," he announced, and gracefully bowed out of the room.

Rachel propped herself up where Blaine had been. "Are you still mad at me?"

Kurt folded his arms. "No. But I still think you could've handled things differently."

"I know." She nodded, tapping her fingers on the white sheet. "So can we talk? About Quinn?"

He grunted. "That was fast. What'd she do?"

Rachel's jaw dropped. "What? She didn't do anything, why would – "

"Well, what do you need to talk about her for then? You've already decided she's the new love of your life, right?" Kurt raised his eyebrows.

She frowned back at him. "Kurt, you know things aren't always that simple. Quinn…hasn't done anything wrong, she hasn't hurt me, things are as lovely as they were yesterday. Mostly. Except her father's back – "

"And she's decided all of a sudden you're a big dirty secret? You shouldn't be surprised – "

"Actually, no," she gritted out. "In fact, she asked if I wanted to stay over again last night right in front of him. But I can tell she's worried her mom is going to take him back. But anyway, that's not the problem, we're actually mostly communicating about that part. It's – "

"You're surprised she's not talking to you? She's Quinn Fabray, Rachel – "

"If you would ever let me finish a sentence, I could tell you what it is," she fumed, and he pouted at her, but said nothing. "Thank you. Did you see the news footage?"

Kurt shook his head, his lower lip poking out even more. "Blaine won't let me watch the news."

"Well, Quinn saved me – "

"Yeah, I know that."

" – and when Gabriel had us, he sent Quinn and Santana out of the room, he sent one of his guards to kill them. Quinn took the guard's place. She got Brittany out and tried to get me and Mercedes out, too." She ducked her head. "And she and the police weren't telling the newscasters so that no one would come after her, but last night, my dads and me and Quinn all went out to dinner and someone filmed our conversation and now it's all over the news, what Quinn did."

Kurt blinked at her for a few moments, then scratched at his stomach, around his stitches. "Okay, so she's more selfless than I thought, what's the problem, Rachel? The cops said Gabriel was moving out of town, he killed a paramedic in some other town already, so it's not like she's in any danger, so what? You don't like the accolades she's getting out there?"

Rachel sighed. "No. Quinn and Santana don't think that Gabriel has really left. And I'm starting to have my doubts, too."

He shifted, and then shrugged. "The cops know more than we do."

"But they don't, really. They don't even know who he is, he could be anywhere, Kurt! I'm so afraid that he's going to come after Quinn, but she won't talk about it, and honestly I think she still thinks that I'm just with her because she saved my life because she keeps talking like I have as much time with her as I want, instead of we have all the time in the world to be together, like she's just waiting for me to get bored or tired or just done and go back to Finn and so then it's like, is she really giving this her all, I mean, not that she's not been wonderful, but – "

"Can you really blame her?" Kurt cut in, finally.

Rachel blew out a breath, staring at him with a furrowed brow.

"I mean, this all happened, what? _Three days_ ago? And you're suddenly over the moon about her after she saved your life, when we've all spent the last three years thinking you and Finn were going to be together for better, for worse, til death do you part. Do you see what I'm saying?"

She faltered. "But it's not just because she saved my life. That's just what triggered my realization that she means more to me and that I've never really given my feelings for her proper attention."

Kurt frowned. "Yeah, okay, maybe _you_ know that, maybe you've even told her that, but that's not what it looks like. It looks like what I thought and what Finn probably thought when you told him you were dumping him for Quinn. And probably what Quinn thinks. You're overwhelmed by what happened, you're clinging to the person who saved your life, and when you've had time to process this and realize that it's just gratitude, you're going to go back to the person you belong with."

Rachel drummed her fingers on the sheet. She supposed it _was_ rather sudden, the way she switched from Finn to Quinn. But she had been so sure – she was _still_ so sure, and she didn't see the point in delaying the obvious. That she wanted Quinn, not Finn anymore. Delays were for people who didn't know what they wanted, and besides, Quinn had even told her she admired that about her, that she went after what she wanted without apology.

But she had to think like Quinn again. Quinn, who despite all her outward confidence, was so ready to dismiss her own talents and aptitudes and general wonderfulness. Rachel and Finn had broken up before, but they always found their way back to each other. Even if Rachel showed interest in another person, it wasn't for very long, or it didn't actually mean anything. Rachel had been ready to marry Finn and pledge the rest of her life to him. In a day, a very traumatic day, Rachel had decided she wanted Quinn instead of Finn.

Rachel twisted her lips. Quinn would take all that information – all the past, all the present, and all the implications of the future, and decide that she was just a pit stop on the way back to Finn, like Noah or Jesse or even Blaine. It made her sad to think of, but she knew it was entirely possible that that was exactly what Quinn was expecting.

"So what am I supposed to do?" she blurted at last, and Kurt's brow furrowed. "How do I convince her this is for real?"

Kurt snorted. "I don't know, I'm not a Quinn expert. Why don't you ask Santana, or Mercedes?"

Rachel hesitated. "Santana would just laugh at me, and Mercedes…what would Mercedes tell me?" She tapped her chin. "Quinn is patient…so I have to stay the course." She grinned.

"The show must go on?"

"Exactly! The longer I hold onto Quinn, the less she can deny my feelings are true!" Rachel clapped her hands and bounced up from the bed. "Thank you!" She kissed Kurt's head and went to launch for the door.

"You realize this isn't a plan that can be completed in the next hour, right?" She paused, turning back to him. "So the bouncing and running off to prepare for it is a little unnecessary."

Rachel opened her mouth to protest, because every plan needed preparation and proper execution. But he was kind of right. This wouldn't be helped by enthusiasm, or PowerPoints, or anything of the sort. This time, she had to rely solely on her stubbornness. Or persistence, as she preferred to call it.

Still, she pouted. "You spoil all my fun."

"I know, I'm the worst." As she sat back down, Kurt tilted his head at her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, we're best friends. You can ask me anything." She smiled.

"Why Quinn? Look, I know she's very attractive, even I have to admit that, but…Quinn?"

She abruptly pouted again. "You act like there's something wrong with her."

"Well, Rachel, she did try to steal back her own baby and – "

"That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with her. You, me, we've all done things we're not proud of. Even things that other people might call crazy. I mean, I sent Sunshine to a _crack house_, for God's sake." She grimaced through a smile. "And you, remember when you were trying to make moves on Finn when he was clearly straight?"

"Quinn is also pretty clearly straight."

"You'd think differently if you knew how she kisses me," Rachel boasted with a grin.

Kurt groaned. "Spare me the details."

"Look, Quinn is good to me. She supports my dreams. She respects my decisions. She takes care of me. You don't have to see in her what I see. You just have to see that she treats me really well and be happy for me."

Kurt's mouth twisted, but eventually, he nodded. Rachel smiled at him, and Blaine popped his head in.

"Good?"

Kurt nodded, waving him in. "Good."

"Great, I've got real coffee and donuts, courtesy of Artie the wonder boy," Blaine announced as he pushed the door open with his foot. "Oh, and Rachel, your dads have a new cell phone for you that they would like you to start carrying ASAP, which I'm guessing means – "

Rachel popped off the bed. "Get my butt out there right now," she chuckled. "Thanks, Blaine. And you, Kurt. I'll be back a little later."

#

Upon arriving in the waiting room where her and Quinn's parents had taken to sitting, Rachel was greeted to the sight of the Jones' solemnly talking with Quinn. Not just Mercedes' parents, either, but her rarely seen older brother, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and looking down at Quinn with heartbroken eyes.

The four of them moved off toward the hallway before Rachel could even begin to ask what was going on, and her fathers came toward her with a brand new cell phone, along with a bright pink cover already slipped on for her convenience. They had entered in their contact information, and she found Quinn's right along with the entries – evidently her fathers were kind enough to purchase Quinn a new phone, too, just in case Rachel's suddenly died and a charging cord was unavailable. Quinn's father had paid them back after Judy tried and all three men refused.

It was hard to read the atmosphere Rachel had entered into. All four adults were experienced, well…adults, and as such their personal feelings were either covered or cast aside very well. In Rachel's fathers' cases because they had no grudges to hold, of course. They were genial and polite to both Judy and Mr. Fabray.

Rachel didn't know Judy very well, but she seemed to feel the same way. She was prim of course, the way she always was – or at least whenever Rachel had seen her – but she wore a genuine smile and conversed easily with both Papa and Dad. It was harder to tell with Mr. Fabray. From what she had seen of _him_, he was stiff and reserved, much the way Quinn could be. But that was generally only the case with Quinn when she was around too many people, or around people or in a situation she didn't like.

It was possible that Mr. Fabray was simply not used to her fathers. They were a little strange, set against normal standards, and Quinn had spent most of their conversation in studied, curious silence before she got used to them, and she had had years of exposure to Rachel to help her. Maybe that was what Mr. Fabray was doing: trying to get used to how unusual they were. Or, if she considered everything Quinn had told her the previous night…maybe he was annoyed, or even angered, by the idea of having to sit and talk civilly with two gay men.

Rachel could only hope that wasn't the case. Maybe there was a middle ground. Maybe Mr. Fabray was merely uncomfortable, but trying. She preferred to think of it that way. It boded better for herself and for Quinn, for _them_, if he was just trying.

Before Rachel could attempt to decipher the seemingly undecipherable man any further, however, Quinn came back in, sans the Jones family, and walked straight to her mother and Rachel.

"I know it's early, but I'd like to head home for now." She turned her gaze to Rachel. "If you want to stay, feel free. I'll come back to pick you up whenever you're ready, or if you want to go home with your fathers…"

Rachel shook her head, reaching up to take Quinn's hand. "I want to stay with you."

Judy stood, pulling her jacket fully on. "Whatever you want, dears. Russell, how are you getting back to your hotel?"

He waved a hand. "I've rented a car, go on. I have a few old friends I'd like to stop in on anyway."

Rachel went across the aisle to exchange hugs with her fathers before the adults all shook hands and said their goodbyes and well wishes. They made a point of reminding her one more time that she had a cell phone now, and thus had no excuse not to call or text that she'd made it safely to Quinn's.

The three of them – Rachel, Quinn, Judy – went out a side door to avoid the news crews, and once they arrived home, Judy went to her office to catch up on the work she was missing, while Rachel and Quinn headed up the stairs to her room again. Rachel was quick to send a text off to both of her fathers before she questioned Quinn, who was digging through her desk for a notebook and pen.

"I saw Mercedes' parents and her brother came," Rachel prompted, sitting herself on the edge of the bed.

Quinn nodded and sat down at her desk once she had her supplies out, twirling her pen. "They wanted to update me on the funeral arrangements and see what I'd decided about speaking."

Rachel's eyes went wider with realization. "So you wanted to come home and work on what to say."

Another nod. "It's tomorrow, have to have something ready," she muttered, scribbling on the page.

Rachel stood cautiously, moseying over to stand behind Quinn and stroke her shoulders, pulling the soft ends of her hair off her neck. Quinn tensed at first, but under Rachel's ministrations, rubbing her arms and kissing the side of her head, she slowly softened beneath Rachel's hands, and blew out a sigh.

"If there is any way I can help you, please tell me," Rachel murmured in her ear, and Quinn nodded, turning her gaze up to lock eyes.

"I will," she promised.

Rachel leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Quinn's tempting mouth, and then drew back to give her space. Quinn bent back over the page, and Rachel sat against the headboard again.

#

It seemed to take hours. Rachel updated her phone to all the settings she was familiar with, even downloaded and played a few apps. She organized Quinn's closet and dresser by color and season. She even used one of the scribbled, crumpled pieces of paper Quinn had sent to the floor to create a makeshift Excel sheet and database of Quinn's CDs, of which there were a great many. Rachel was tempted to put in several of them and blast them aloud like she would in her own room at home.

Quinn herself barely moved, except to throw unsatisfactory papers aside and to write and write and write. Rachel wasn't sure how her hand wasn't cramping. Or her back, or her neck. Or any part of her body, after staying so still for so long. Her stomach wasn't even growling, when Rachel's was practically howling.

But she didn't want to leave Quinn's side, not even for food. For one thing, on occasion, Quinn would burst into growls of aggravation, or there would be some other sign. Her leg jiggling madly, or her pen slamming on the page in audible traces of anger. Or her brow furrowing even tighter than before, going from concentration to frustrated rage in a moment, so Rachel would slide along the floor, or get up from the bed, and rub Quinn's shoulders or her feet, and Quinn would stop writing for a little bit, until she'd calmed down from Rachel's attention.

And in between moments like those, sometimes Quinn would cry. Not loudly. There was no wailing or weeping, but tears would quietly track down her cheeks. Then Rachel couldn't help but cry, too, not only because of Quinn's tears, but for the same reason they appeared. For missing Mercedes. So in those moments, Rachel would crawl up between Quinn's legs and hug her, and they would hold each other until Quinn was ready to keep writing.

So Rachel couldn't and wouldn't leave, not even for a moment, not even long enough to go retrieve a snack. Judy was either asleep or gone or very aware that she shouldn't intrude, because not once did she knock or text or anything like it. Rachel once thought she heard her walking down the hall outside, but she didn't stop to disturb them.

By the time Quinn finally set down her pen and sat back in her chair, Rachel was dozing, curled up on the bed in her vigil, until she heard Quinn's heavy sigh and her own head popped up. She hesitated to speak and her voice was hoarse when she did.

"Finished?"

Quinn nodded. Rachel grimaced as Quinn stretched and popped joint after joint before she stood and made her stiff way over to the bed. She got up onto her knees on the mattress, welcoming Quinn into her arms as she slumped down, forehead against Rachel's chest. Rachel petted her blonde hair and kissed it, pausing again.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really." Quinn lifted herself up, to Rachel's disappointment. "But I'll eat if you want."

Rachel smiled a little. "Do you need anything else? Water, juice? An ice pack?"

She shook her head. "No. I'll go get it."

She scanned Quinn's beautiful, drawn face. Even the last few days hadn't brought her down with as much exhaustion as writing tonight had. Not being hostages, not the explosion, not the initial news about Mercedes, not her father's arrival – not even the threat that being exposed as Gabriel's downfall posed. Rachel supposed it was all of those things compiled, and the idea of attending Mercedes' funeral the next day, that was finally dragging the strongest woman she knew down.

Rachel set her jaw. So for once, she was going to take care of the strongest woman she knew.

"No, mm-mm. Lie down."

She fluffed up some pillows and once she was obeyed – despite a rather puzzled look – Rachel kissed her head and then sped out of the room before Quinn could issue a protest to search the Fabray house for what she would need. Judy was still nowhere in sight, but in the kitchen she had left two covered platters out on the counter, one with creamy lattice top chicken on it and the other with a stack of oatmeal treats.

Rachel heated up the food after setting it out on two plates, heaping one higher than the other, and filled two glasses: one with milk, the other with water. She added a couple of cookies to the side of one plate, and carefully picked all the chicken out of her portion of the food, setting it on Quinn's large pile. Lastly, she took a couple of ice packs from the freezer and wrapped them in dish towels.

Once she had it all balanced along and under her arms, Rachel made her way back up the stairs and into Quinn's room, where Quinn lay still with that look on her face, the one that said she'd been thinking and far too hard. But once she saw Rachel entering, Quinn sat up, and Rachel set the heaping plate on Quinn's lap, the glass of milk on the nightstand, and then went about placing one ice pack behind Quinn's neck and the other between her lower back and the pillows.

Finished at last, Rachel smiled with satisfaction and sat down on the other side of the bed, digging into her food with vigor once Quinn slowly began eating her own. Despite, once again, a rather curious look on her face. Rachel just smiled back to it, knowing full well what Quinn was thinking. It was all part of her silly idea that Rachel's feelings were a false product of a traumatic event.

So Rachel faced it like she had decided she would face all of Quinn's doubts, until she had won. She smiled.

Quinn's chewing slowed. "What?"

Rachel's eyebrows rose, and she only smiled wider. "You let me take care of you."

When Quinn could only swallow and flush, Rachel's smile turned into a beam. She'd won a battle.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Quinn woke to utter silence. In fact, she had woken several times that night, found it was still dark, and was able to fall back asleep while watching the steady rhythm of Rachel's breaths, as her chest rose and fell. But this time faint grey light was flowing in under the curtains, and though Quinn tried to sleep again, to sleep through this whole day – her mind was alert, and so she slipped out of bed and into the bathroom.

She examined herself carefully in the mirror as she cut off a string of floss to run between her teeth. She would have to cover the rings under her eyes and mask the puffiness when she did her makeup. In the meantime, she brushed her teeth and gums with a thin layer of paste and then brushed through her short mess of hair, static from a night of being rubbed on pillows and sheets.

Once satisfied with her teeth and hair, Quinn stripped down and folded her sleep clothes into her laundry basket, before stepping into the shower. She scrubbed her skin section by section, thoroughly soaping herself with a lavender scented gel to match the shampoo Mercedes had once gifted her. Then she dried off and slung on a robe as she padded out to the silent bedroom.

Rachel had rolled over since she was gone, but showed no signs of waking otherwise, lying still and comfortable.

So Quinn sprayed her wrists and neck with perfume, one small shot each, and rubbed on deodorant. She combed her hair back while she looked through her closet, almost smiling when she found exactly what Rachel had been up to the previous night and after determining the summer section from the rest, and then the dresses and cardigans, she tugged out a black one of each and a pair of heels from the bottom of her closet. Tights came from her dresser, along with undergarments.

She laid the clothes out on the end of the bed, where they wouldn't disturb Rachel and she wouldn't disturb them, and then sat at her vanity table, scrubbing black nail polish off first thing. Next she carefully layered her makeup, light for today, but enough to cover her difficulty sleeping. She clipped a butterfly barrette, something Mercedes had insisted she buy, into her hair and clasped on her cross necklace, petting it for one moment before she stood to dress.

Her robe went back up on the opposite side of the bathroom door after she had her underwear on and tights rolled up her thighs, and she slipped on her bra, the dress over her head, zipping the back of it in the mirror, and finally her cardigan.

And stopped. For a moment, Quinn's stomach dropped and her throat seized as she stared at the clock. It had only been one hour. Her eyes stung and she went to sink to the bed, but looking at Rachel lying there triggered her thoughts and she slung on her heels to go down the stairs.

This morning, she decided, she would prepare a strawberry shortcake pancakes and a peanut butter granola.

#

By the time all three places at the table were set to Quinn's satisfaction, with a coffee mug, a bowl, and a plate neatly centered between silverware and around a middle of extra offerings – strawberry and maple syrup, extra strawberries, sugar, cream, margarine, et cetera – her mother came down in a neat black dress, her hair pinned up, and she stared from her daughter to the table. And back again.

After a moment, however, she simply stepped forward to kiss Quinn's cheek and then sat at her place, uttering, "Good morning, darling."

"Morning." Quinn leaned into the kiss, but drummed her fingers on the counter behind her.

"Shall we wait for Rachel?"

Quinn bobbed her head. "Yeah. I'll grab the mail – and the newspaper – while we wait."

When she sat with the stack in her hands, her mother just offered the letter opener, and Quinn went about slicing through the envelopes, handing each off to her mom afterward. Before she finished with this task, however, Rachel arrived in the doorway, in Quinn's sweater and her own pair of boy shorts, hair still mussed from sleep and tiredly rubbing her cheek until she took a look at the two women.

"Oh."

"Good morning, Rachel."

"Should I…? I'll go change," she said, and Quinn stood.

"No. No, you're fine. You can change later, sit. Eat."

Rachel hesitated. "I feel kind of underdressed."

"Please sit."

Rachel's gaze flicked between Quinn and her mother, but finally she took her place next to Quinn, and the blonde dropped back into her own chair, immediately taking up her duty of slicing through the envelopes again. The other two picked up their utensils to eat, her mother more steadily and certainly than Rachel. Quinn did her best to ignore the odd look she was sending and as soon as she finished her letter opening, she took up her fork and knife to slice her pancakes into even, bite-sized pieces.

They ate in relative silence, only the sounds of silverware hitting or scraping plates punctuating in place of the lack of words, and when they finished, Quinn immediately went to gather it all up, until Rachel placed a hand on her arm.

"Quinn. Slow down, let me help," she offered gently.

She hesitated, the sympathy in those big brown eyes crushing. "It's okay, I've got it."

Quinn jerked away to the sink, deciding to do it all manually despite having a dishwasher. Behind her, she heard her mother say, though quietly, "Let her."

She turned on the hot water.

#

When Quinn finished with the dishes, she took up reading the newspaper. Each and every section, from the front page to sports, but thankfully before she could get too deep into that, Rachel joined them again in her summer funeral attire – a black skirt and short-sleeved button down, her hair curled into waves. Quinn stood immediately, and again her mother and Rachel were silent as they walked out to the car and slid in.

"Is he coming?" Quinn blurted once they were on the road.

Her mother glanced back at the two of them in the rearview mirror. "Yes. He wants to support you."

She could only scoff and stared out the window, until she felt pieces of paper being slipped under her fingers on the leather seat. She glanced from it to Rachel, who murmured, "You forgot this upstairs."

Quinn swallowed and folded the sheets into her lap, before setting her hand on top of Rachel's. "Thank you."

There were quite a few people already at the church when they pulled up, including her father, and Rachel's fathers. Many of the glee club members came up for hugs as well, and Quinn recognized a few of the church members from attending with the Jones family when she lived with them. They waved at her, and she nodded back.

Rachel kept her hand curled firmly around Quinn's, and the two of them led the way into the church and into a pew. Quinn sat herself at the end, with Rachel next to her, then Leroy and Hiram, then her mother, and then her father. He hadn't said anything, but he looked at her now and then. She couldn't think about him at the moment, waiting with her hand in Rachel's lap.

The Jones were standing at the front pew, of course, greeting people, and she saw Sam in what she hoped was a different tux than before, next to Mrs. Jones. His hair, at least, was clean and his face looked shaven, but his cheeks were already caked with dried tears, from what she could see. Quinn couldn't bring herself to go over, though she knew she should, to pay her respects.

Church staff was setting up a project in the aisles anyway, by the time she thought of it, and the priest was preparing his notes at the podium. It still seemed an age before the music and the choir started singing to open up the service, people milling and finding their way to their seats.

Quinn gripped Rachel's hand tighter and felt her lean closer in response.

All was quiet except for the choir within moments, but the priest waited patiently for them to finish. Quinn's throat seized as the silence followed, a few coughs from the pews behind.

"Friends, honored guests. I stand before you today with a heavy heart as we celebrate the life and mourn the passing of a remarkable young lady. Mercedes Jones was many things to many people in her too short time. Beloved daughter, loving sister, wonderful friend. She was poised on the brink of a new chapter in her life, one with endless possibilities for someone so gifted.

"Her loss would have been devastating under any circumstances, but it was brought to a sudden end, while she was standing by her beliefs with the people she loved. Such an end makes us question our belief in a benevolent God. Why does He let terrible things happen to good people? Loyal believers like Mercedes. What are we supposed to learn, if anything? Especially when the very men who caused her abrupt end claimed to speak in the name of God. But the answers you won't find from how she died. You'll find them in her life, and today one of her dearest friends is going to help us celebrate and remember that life."

His eyes suddenly landed on Quinn and he gestured for her to come up. "Quinn."

She couldn't move for a moment, until she felt Rachel's kiss on her cheek, her urging hands, and she stood on shaky legs to ascend the steps to the podium. It felt like climbing Everest. Once Quinn stood at the top, she faced the crowd full of familiar and unfamiliar faces and her stomach lurched. Rachel's tearful face spread with an encouraging smile, and Quinn opened up her sheets of paper, spreading them on the podium. She tightened her lips together, staring at her own opening lines.

"I feel sick about this. And under normal circumstances, I wouldn't tell a soul let alone a whole room full of people. In fact, you'd probably think I was dead inside by the time I finished talking. Actually, some of you who know me better probably already do." She heard a few titters from some of the glee club members. Sam smiled a little. "But today I can't hide the fact that one of my best friends is gone, and talking about it makes me feel like throwing up. So if I stumble, or can't finish, maybe you can forgive me, just for today."

Quinn swallowed, stroking the wood of the podium with her thumbs and staring out at Rachel for a moment, her encouraging face. "There are so many things I could say about Mercedes, but we only have a day to do it. So I'll talk about what I'm going to remember and cherish the most about her. Her unconditional love. When you made a friend of Mercedes, you were a friend for life, and it didn't matter what your background was, or what ethnicity you were, or what your orientation was.

"She had friends from every walk of life, mostly thanks to our glee club, but unlike most of us, she got along with everyone, from a poor, corn fed, homegrown Tennessee boy – " she smiled down at Sam " – to a sassy Latina girl from Lima Heights – " she caught the flash of Santana's teeth toward the back, and nodded to her " – to a spoiled, rich little white girl. That one would be me, in case you're wondering." A few small laughs followed. "But Mercedes didn't see me or any of us as the stereotypes we embodied. She accepted every problem, no matter how big or small, as a real problem, and your choices, even if they weren't the choices she would've made.

"She was loyal to the people she loved, no matter what. Especially her wonderful family. Mr. and Mrs. Jones…Matt. Mercedes loved you all deeply. She told me once that she was the luckiest member of glee, because not only did she have a complete set of parents and siblings, unlike most of us…but you were a real, whole, and happy family and she knew just how lucky she was to have you, and she was generous with that love. She shared it with me, and I will never forget the kindness she or any of you showed me, of finally getting to see the real meaning of family."

Quinn sighed, swiping at her stinging eyes for a moment and flipping over her sheet. "But Mercedes also had another family. Glee club. And like I said, she cherished…every single one of us, especially we originals. There are so many of us who should be here today, who couldn't, but I'll start with the ones who are. Tina, Mike, Brittany and Artie – she was always on your side, from day one. You were outcasts just like her, with dreams that had the potential of coming true in glee club. She believed in your singing, Tina, and your dancing, Mike and Brittany and Artie.

"Santana." She almost smirked, but couldn't quite make it. Her face felt funny. "You two got off to a very rough start, to say the least, but Mercedes always appreciated your strength and your mutual appreciation for sass and – apologies, Reverend – kicking ass. I don't think she enjoyed duets with anyone quite as much as she did with you." She paused, pulling in a breath. "But if she did, it was definitely with you, Rachel. You were her kindred spirit, her diva friend, and even though sometimes she got lost in jealousy of your amazing talent, you were also the person who reminded her that she was just as spectacular. And I know she appreciated and respected you for that, having someone whose talent she admired so much admire her right back."

Rachel sniffled through a smile, almost beaming up at Quinn, and she finally turned to the front pew.

"Sam. I know there's so much more of life you wanted to have with Mercedes, but you should know that she loved you very much. You were such opposites in so many ways, but when anyone asked her about you, Mercedes always said that chocolate and vanilla swirl was her favorite flavor. I think she meant to say that you were her complement. Not her opposite. That made you perfect together."

He nodded his head, running a hand through his hair, while Mrs. Jones rubbed his shoulder.

"Puck and Finn couldn't be here today, but to Mercedes, they were men in progress, and she always wished them well. I know she still does." She fiddled with the sheets in her hands and sighed. "There's one other person I'd like to address, a very important person in her life, someone you can't help but mention if you're talking about Mercedes. Kurt was Mercedes' very best friend. They were the first best friends in our club, actually, and the first proof that Mercedes was one of the best friends you could ever hope to have. She was the first person Kurt told he was gay. She accepted him. And I can't imagine how that must've felt. Especially here, in Lima, Ohio. Where something like this can happen."

Quinn dropped her head, realizing that her sheets were wet, ink was bleeding, and blinked a few times before she spoke again, "She loved him. And I know she doesn't blame him for following his heart, because that's what she would've done." She glanced over to Rachel, catching her nod and wipe her wet cheeks.

"The last thing I want to say has to do with my relationship with her, though I wouldn't end with it if I didn't think it embodied everything that was wonderful about Mercedes. Most of you probably know by now, thanks to the news coverage, that two years ago, I got pregnant. What you might not know is I was kicked out of my house." She spied her father drop his head, but pushed on. "I lived with the father, for a while, but had no friends to turn to, or anywhere else to go.

"Until Mercedes repaid a small kindness I had offered her and opened her house to me. We weren't friends. I had hardly ever spoken to her, a stuck up cheerleader with no time for the little people, until I got pregnant. I had said…one nice thing to her in all our acquaintance. And she saw my pain and my grief and that was all she needed to ask me to stay with her and her family. To me, she was an angel. And I've agreed to sing a song with the choir today to honor that memory."

Quinn cleared her throat and stepped across the stage to join the choir, looking down to Rachel again to find her surprised and intrigued. Quinn tried to smile at her before she began Borrowed Angels.

#

"That was beautiful, Quinn," Rachel sniffled in her ear, once she sat back down.

Quinn took in her tear-filled face before kissing her forehead and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, briefly rubbing at her own eyes.

The priest stood back up at the podium then, nodding out to her and the crying crowd before he said, "Before we conclude this service…the family has requested the viewing of a video in memory of Mercedes."

He waved a hand and stepped aside again, as the lights went down and the projector rolled. Quinn's breath caught as she watched Mercedes in living color, walking across the stage to a centered microphone, and then the music started, and Rachel rested her head on Quinn's shoulder as they watched Mercedes sing Ain't No Way, one last time.

#

When the priest finished the service with a prayer, Quinn turned to Rachel to wipe her tears away while the rest of them stood, looking at her wet, sad brown eyes and squeezing her closer under her arm. Rachel smiled a little after a moment, and Quinn took her hands to lift her up from the wooden bench.

The Jones' stopped at their pew to hug Quinn and thank her on their way through the other mourners. Sam stooped to grab first Rachel and then Quinn in a big hug as well, but said nothing. The others grabbed them on the way out the door – Santana, Brittany, Tina, Mike, and Artie. They all exchanged hugs and thanked Quinn for their piece in her speech, but Quinn barely heard or felt anything but Rachel's hand in her own.

So once their friends turned to mingle amongst themselves or to talk to their own families or other guests, Quinn went to pull Rachel away to the privacy of the car, but before she could make it even two steps, Rachel halted, a hand on her arm.

She reached up to hug her fathers, and Quinn stood impatiently by. Her mother stroked her arm, and her father made his way slowly closer, straightening up.

"Quinn…I'm very sorry about your friend," he said, as clearly as the night before when he had expressed his relief that she was okay.

She only nodded, and Leroy and Hiram surprised Quinn with bear hugs of her own before they let them loose. The adults agreed on a late dinner, after everyone had had time to change and relax for a bit. Quinn didn't pay any mind to it.

And back home at last, she accepted her mom's kiss on the cheek and promptly retreated to her room, shutting the door behind her and Rachel, and breathing free at last. Rachel cupped her cheeks, stroking her warm thumbs across her skin, and Quinn leaned into the soothing touch, closing her eyes.

"You seem a lot calmer since this morning," she observed, quietly so as not to disturb the silence.

"I didn't want to get up there," Quinn murmured back, her hands finding Rachel's waist and holding fast.

"You spoke beautifully. And sang even more beautifully." Rachel shifted closer, bringing Quinn's eyes open to find hers. "No one could have done better. Mercedes…she has to be so proud of you."

She grimaced, shaking her head. "I was just trying to get through it. I guess we should change…" She lifted her head out of Rachel's hands, sighing through her nose. "If we want to be ready for dinner."

Quinn took her hands away, going to shrug off her cardigan, but Rachel's hands were back before she knew it, stilling her.

"No." Rachel paused, shyly looking down as Quinn stared at her. "No, let me take care of you."

Quinn hesitated, a beat or two passing, before Rachel took the silence as acceptance. She rolled the shoulders of the cardigan down Quinn's arms, slipping close, so their chests bumped, to push it down off her wrists and hands. Once she was free of the fabric, Rachel gripped her fingers lightly and peeked up at Quinn, tilting her head back to do so, a small smile curling her lips.

It was all Quinn could do not to kiss those lips. Rachel moved on before she could, wrapping her arms about Quinn to reach up and unzip her dress, and with Rachel so close to her and so beautiful and so alive, Quinn stroked her hair back and kissed her.

Rachel's body seemed to melt into her own, until Quinn wasn't sure if there were two bodies or just one, with one of Rachel's hands reaching into the back of the dress to stroke her skin. Quinn held her face, keeping her perfect lips in steady supply, dragging in deep breaths through her nose so she wouldn't have to pull away.

The taste of strawberries lingered on Rachel's tongue, and so far it was Quinn's favorite taste to find in her mouth. It seemed to fit so well, just like Rachel's small body curving into hers, and her lips, pliable and willing beneath Quinn's. She ran her hands back down to Rachel's hips and then up to her waist, pulling the cotton button down from beneath the hem of her skirt.

Rachel's skin was warm and inviting, and Quinn had never felt anything so lovely as the dip in the middle of her lower back, between the valleys leading down to the hill of her arse, she knew. She was tempted to reach lower, but satisfied herself with memorizing the curve of Rachel's spine for the time being, knowing it wouldn't be enough forever, because she had never felt a need like this in her life.

Want, yes. Quinn wanted Rachel, had wanted Rachel, from afar and now close up, and want she could handle and control. Need was something entirely different, and Rachel somehow knew how to give her everything she needed, from every little moan in response to Quinn's kisses on her neck, to digging her blunt nails into Quinn's shoulder blades, gripping her closer.

But like every moment they shared, it seemed, it couldn't last forever. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Quinn, darling! Officer Anderson is here to see you."

Quinn sighed as she straightened up, tilting her head back and then forward to look morosely down into Rachel's disappointed eyes. But despite the disappointment, Rachel smiled gently and zipped up the back of her dress again, and called for her, "We'll be down in just a moment then."

Her mother's footsteps padded away, and Quinn squeezed Rachel tighter to her as she started to drift away, scanning her beautiful face for just a moment more. Rachel leaned up to press a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth, stroking down her hair and her neck.

"We have time," Rachel whispered. "This could be important. It could be about Gabriel."

There was a quiver of fear in Rachel's voice, the same fear as when they discovered the news footage, and it was only that that convinced Quinn to let her go – but not entirely. She kept a grip on Rachel's hand as they stepped down the stairs to join her mother and Anderson in the living room, where they immediately stood.

Quinn spoke first. "What's going on?"

Anderson hesitated just a moment. "We went to check out the kid you mentioned, Jacob Ben Israel. He's dead."

Rachel's hand had never gripped Quinn's so tightly.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Rachel's delicious strawberry shortcake pancake and peanut butter granola just about made a reappearance on Judy's cream-colored carpet. Knees locked and wavering, she stared at the solemn officer, thinking she had to have misheard. But he just looked at them steadily.

"What do you mean, he's dead?"

Her own voice seemed to come from miles away; the only things present and real were Quinn's hands holding onto her own. Anderson hesitated, glancing away when another man in uniform entered the house – presumably his partner. Rachel couldn't have cared less at the moment.

"A couple other officers went to question him on the news footage this morning. Door was bolted shut and there was a video game playing on full volume. He didn't answer, parents gave permission to break the lock and go in. He was DOA, shot in the head. It looks…like a suicide."

"You can't be serious," Rachel balked.

Quinn's arm went around her shoulder, soothing. "It's okay."

"No, no, it's not okay! Quinn! Gabriel killed him, he had to have! You _know_ he did!" She pointed her finger up at Anderson's nose, narrowing her eyes accusingly even as Quinn tugged her backward and the other uniform stepped forward.

"What we know is that he had the weapon with him and that he had gun powder on his hand," Anderson answered, unnervingly calm. "We will have to wait for the coroner to examine the body, but for now…the commissioner's official stance is that he killed himself."

"Jacob Ben Israel would not kill himself." Rachel nearly stamped her foot, glaring up at him. "He was a pest of the worst sort, the kind that only stays longer the more you make fun of him! He didn't care when people bullied him, he had no reason to kill himself! This was Gabriel! And you are sticking to this stupid theory because your whole department is too cowardly to admit he's still on the loose!"

"Depression often seems to come out of nowhere. Maybe it was the bullying that got to him. Maybe it was…maybe it was guilt for releasing what he captured on his phone, we can't just jump to the wildest conclusion because a few civilians have PTSD."

"So the footage was on his phone then," Quinn interjected.

Anderson nodded. "That and a whole lot of other footage, mostly of you," he said, turning to Rachel. "Had he been alive, we probably could've gotten him on stalking charges if nothing else."

His partner spoke up then. "There was also an email in his inbox, asking to meet to see what other kind of footage he had for purchase, claiming a local station gave this person Israel's email for a lead on a story. We're trying to track the IP address, but we're not hopeful. Probably sent from a library or something."

Rachel shook her head furiously, feeling Quinn's hands trying to soothe, rubbing the back of her neck. "How can you just stand there and pretend that Quinn's not in even more danger than ever? You know why Gabriel went after him! He wanted all the information he could get on Quinn and he probably got it! And what are you doing about it? You're just standing there saying it was a suicide, leaving her open to that maniac to come in and kill her and she'll be the next one you'll find DOA, and then what will you say? Another fucking suicide?!"

Quinn had her around the waist by then, though Rachel fought to get up in Anderson's face, cooing in her ear. "Shh, shh. It's okay. He's just doing his job, it's not his fault."

Anderson sighed, looking around at them, Judy with her arms folded, looking like she'd very much like to have an outburst herself. "Look. Ladies, we're just officers. The commissioner has allowed me to handle most of your case because I took your statement, that's all. But I can't do anything more than this. Personally, I agree. This is bullshit. We all know it was Gabriel. But this is police procedure. We cannot leap to a conclusion based on guts alone; we have to rely on facts and evidence. That's just the way it works."

"So you're telling me you're going to do absolutely nothing to protect her, you're going to walk out of this house and all she can rely on is a couple squad cars going by every few hours? After everything Quinn did to help everyone, she deserves more from your department than any of you are willing to give her, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in on this from the beginning!"

Rachel was riled, flailing arms again, and Quinn kept a lock on her waist with both arms. She rocked back into her, frowning and holding her pale arms closer, while Anderson sighed and his partner folded his arms.

"We're doing all we can."

"And even if you are right, that it wasn't a suicide, Gabriel might not be the first person we have to look at," the partner – Rachel took a closer look at his clip, 'Cooper' said.

"What do you mean?" Judy prompted, finally ruffled enough to speak.

"I mean you all need to have a tight alibi, just in case. Especially you." Cooper nodded toward Quinn.

Rachel fumed. "Wait a minute. Quinn's the victim here and you're standing here _accusing_ her of – "

"We're not accusing her of anything, all right?" Anderson sighed. "But they're going to want to look at all of you if this turns out to be a homicide, and until we have proof that Gabriel is the one who did it, or that he's back in Lima…we can't do anything more. I'm sorry."

He looked around at all of them, and Rachel was tempted to launch across the space and give him a smack worthy of Audrey Hepburn. But Quinn held her still and nodded, as did Judy, but the latter then went to guide both men out, offering, "Thank you for stopping by, Officers."

Their voices faded as they reached the foyer, and Quinn loosened her grip a bit on Rachel and left her lips on her temple until Rachel relaxed and sighed, sniffling all of a sudden.

"It's not his fault," Quinn repeated. "He's trying to help us."

"I know," she mumbled, reaching up to wipe her cheeks.

"I know that you're scared. I'm gonna be okay." Quinn leaned her head around to meet Rachel's eyes, looking at her with such calm Rachel wanted to scream for a moment. "It's okay. They might be right, you know?"

Rachel shook her head. "They're not. He's back, and he's coming after you, and I can't lose you. I can't. We've already lost Mercedes…Kurt's dad… We didn't even know Julie or Katie or all those people, relatives and friends of Kurt's and Blaine's and oh, God…"

Quinn rocked her, back and forth, back and forth, and the rhythm helped Rachel to calm the river of tears suddenly pouring down her face, the way they had that first night. So heavy and hard she ached and needed Quinn more than anything. This time, at least, she didn't have to run to her, drive to her. She was right there holding her, swaying her, and Rachel wriggled to turn about in her arms and burrow into her neck.

"It's okay, it's okay," Quinn murmured, stroking her hair, and Rachel knew it wasn't, not at all. But hearing Quinn say it, she felt soothed anyway.

#

It was some time before Rachel had completely calmed down from her emotional outburst, and by then Judy had called Mr. Fabray and Rachel's fathers to cancel on dinner for the night, and she and Quinn had gone back to her room where it was safe and quiet. Quinn had readied a bath for her, complete with bubbles and her iPod hooked up to an iHome on the counter, a remote waiting on the edge of the tub for Rachel's convenience. And when Rachel finished half-dozing in the warm water, Quinn was out waiting with tea and a throw to wrap her up in over top of the robe she'd already tugged on.

Quinn had changed in the meantime, out of a dress and formal clothes, but still adorned in all black. Rachel had the feeling that wouldn't be changing for a while, and she already missed the baby blues and the colors Quinn would wear. Though, she could appreciate the contrast of Quinn's pale, pale skin and golden hair alongside the black. It made her glow, and that would have to do until she was satisfied with her mourning period, Rachel decided.

She curled up at the head of the bed again, knees tucked to her chest, while Quinn sat in front of her, running a hand over shins over the blanket. Rachel cupped the tea close to her chest, taking tiny little sips, and murmuring, "Thank you."

Quinn nodded. "Better now?"

Rachel bit her lip, but nodded back. "I still can't stop thinking…he could be lurking around any corner, waiting for you, or…"

"You can't let yourself go there," she murmured.

"How are you so calm?" Rachel huffed, half-admiring and half-exasperated. "I mean, I know when we were all trapped by Gabriel in that room, you told me you thought in order to calm down and you were being strong for everyone else, and that made sense to me at the time, but this is different. He's after _you_…and all _I_ can think of is what he's going to do, and that's not exactly soothing material."

Quinn shrugged, tilting her head. "We don't know what he's going to do."

Rachel lowered the tea cup, raising her eyebrows. "That's hardly calming, Quinn."

She smiled a little. "What's the point in getting worked up over something that hasn't even happened yet?"

She fiddled with the throw's tassels around her neck. "I don't know. Emotional cleansing?" Quinn's smile grew. "Not letting fear and anger grow inside you until you accidentally slap someone?"

Rachel had meant it as a joke, but Quinn's face went sober almost as if she'd slapped her instead. Her breath caught.

"I'm sorry, I didn't – "

Quinn lifted her hand up and waved it, dismissive. "He wants me to be afraid. Right? You were there that night, he enjoyed making us wait, teasing us with the possibility of death if we messed up in some arbitrary way he decided deserved a bullet. He likes the game, the waiting, and he wants to see fear paralyze his victims into making a mistake. I'm not going to do that. I won't give him the satisfaction."

Rachel nodded with understanding and drew her tongue over her bottom lip. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy it is that you're so smart?"

It was worth the minor embarrassment of saying something like that just to see Quinn's cheeks flame with red, even if it was only for a moment.

"Not to mention, brave, calculating, even a little bit defiant," she drawled on, batting her lashes.

"Are you calling my personality sexy?" Quinn questioned, seeming to recover a little.

Rachel bobbed her head affirmatively, smiling proudly. "Mmhm, I believe I am."

"Mm, then I would have to say no, nobody's ever said that to me before. Probably for a reason, too, but thank you."

"Oh, come on, don't say that, Quinn. Yes, you're very beautiful, but you know that's not all that draws people to you."

Quinn raised her eyebrow with interest. "Isn't it?"

"No. You're…mysterious and confident and charming and – "

"Temperamental, bitchy."

Rachel huffed. "You're the James Dean of modern women, and you know it. Only you're classier than that, so no. You're Clark Gable." She nodded.

Quinn seemed to be holding back a laugh, her eyes twinkling. She nodded anyway. "Well. Then I guess I should kiss you, Scarlett. After all, you need kissing badly."

Rachel was more than eager to accept Quinn's lips, particularly after that drawl and that smirk. Goodness, how did Quinn not realize that even if she wasn't so gorgeous on the outside, she simply oozed desire, and Rachel would be melting under her expert mouth even if she had witch's warts and horns coming out of her head right now.

She nearly dropped the teacup in her own lap, but Quinn had the presence of mind to set it aside while she took Rachel apart bit by bit with the sweet firmness of her lips and the confident guidance of her tongue. And then put her back together with hands gripping Rachel's shoulders, steadying her as she reached up to curl her arms around her pale neck.

"Mm, say something else?" she mumbled, as Quinn's mouth broke its hold.

Quinn's sniff was in amusement, but still she burred from her throat, "'None of the fools you've ever known have kissed you like this, have they?'"

Rachel leaned up for more with an instantaneous moan, shaking her head in answer as she tugged Quinn down to her at once. Quinn's hands rose up into her hair, still damp from the bath, but freshly strawberry scented, and Rachel could hear Quinn's breaths purposely drinking it in as she tended to Rachel's neck. Like earlier, Rachel felt helpless to do anything but moan and hold Quinn against her, but this time she had the bed to fall back on, to tug Quinn over top of her and then they'd be closer than ever.

But before she even made it halfway down, Quinn pulled away and helped her back up, shaking her head. "Mm, slow. Slow."

"Then stop kissing me like that," Rachel breathed, and Quinn's chuckle made it impossible not to do so as well.

"Can't be helped." She stroked Rachel's hair behind her ears, pressing a kiss to her forehead now.

Rachel curled her fingers into the fabric of Quinn's shirt, intending on keeping her close anyway. "Quinn, we should…we should go to my house, stay there for a while with my fathers." When Quinn leaned back to look at her again, she rushed on, "Gabriel won't know to look for you there, and I know what you're thinking, you can't leave your mom, but she can come, too, I'm sure my dads wouldn't mind in the least."

"Rachel." Quinn sighed, holding her face. "I won't run."

She deflated slightly. "I knew you'd say that."

She eased to sit down, rubbing Rachel's legs. "I'm sorry. It's a…it is a good plan, it's a smart plan, but ultimately he would just find us there anyway and I'd be putting you and your dads at risk. I won't do that. If I stay put, he can come after me, I can at least call the police and there's a chance he'll be caught sooner rather than later."

"But the police aren't even – "

"I know. But we have an advantage over Gabriel."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "What advantage?"

"He's insane. And sooner or later, that's going to trip him up. He'll make a mistake, and he'll be caught. So I want you to put this out of your mind," she said firmly. "Because it's going to be fine."

"How do you expect me to do that, Quinn?"

Quinn shrugged, after a moment. "Just try. We'll do something else."

"Like what?"

"Like…watch Funny Girl."

She stood then and traipsed across the room to retrieve her laptop and plop it on the bed, and Rachel couldn't help but smile a little as she sat up more.

"You have that movie?"

"What can I say? I was curious after hearing about it for three years running," Quinn hummed, almost teasing as she came back from a bookcase with the DVD, and sat next to Rachel.

She smiled. "You're saying this was a recent purchase, then?"

"I didn't have a lot to do when I couldn't use my legs." She shrugged, slipping the DVD in, and Rachel sobered, only to feel Quinn's lips against her temple again. "You're even more beautiful when you smile."

Rachel couldn't help but blush as she sank back into the arc of Quinn's arm as the movie credits started.

#

They spent most of the night and the next day watching movies on Quinn's bed. At least, when Rachel was awake. At some point in the a.m. hours, she fell fast asleep before they could make it through what remained of My Fair Lady, and when she woke up, Quinn had not only restarted it for her, but had had time to exercise, shower, and make them all breakfast and coffee again.

Rachel was swiftly falling in love with, if nothing else, Quinn's breakfasts. She had yet to experience a dinner by her, but she had a feeling that if it was even half as good as the creamy, rich chocolate hazelnut spread she had been treated with the first morning, or those fluffy pancakes the second, or the baked blueberry donuts with a sweet and sugary glaze she stuffed herself with when she woke up, she would gain approximately ten pounds by the end of the summer.

She had never tasted anything so delicious in her life, and that included her fathers' cooking, and neither of them was horrible, when they did cook, though most of the time they opted for takeout. Even her own cooking tended to be a bit of a mess (not just her workspace) and not very well done in the end. She supposed it must've come from Quinn's own methodical nature. She was patient and precise, and it definitely paid off, at least for Rachel's taste buds.

Judy brought them some sandwiches from the Lima Bean in the afternoon and they all shared a late dinner of chicken parmesan – eggplant, for Rachel, of course – and Scrabble before they spent the rest of the evening on the couch, letting the final episode of Awake play on the DVR, and after Judy got over its cancellation with some of the most elegant pouting Rachel had ever seen, Psych episodes.

Rachel watched avidly – any and all acting was a benefit to study – but soon noticed that for the Fabrays, TV was typically less of a spectator sport and more of a source of background noise. Judy, for instance, was catching up on work on her laptop for Monday, and Quinn was busying herself with the crossword, Sudoku, and cryptogram puzzles in the newspaper.

She almost wondered why they had it on at all, until she realized the silence would be rather awkward if they didn't. Or perhaps not for them. Maybe they wouldn't even have it on, if not for her presence, but just as she started to feel uncomfortable, like she was disrupting their routine, Judy closed up for the night to head to bed, and Quinn flipped off the TV shortly after for the two of them to head to bed.

It had all been very pleasant, the whole day. Lazy and happy. Rachel had hardly thought about Gabriel at all, which she was sure was Quinn's entire aim, and it had worked. But she was reminded when they crawled under the covers to watch one more movie for the night that she had entirely forgotten about another danger lurking ahead.

Church in the morning and dinner with all the Fabrays, including the Mr.

Not that it was nearly as bad as a psycho wielding a gun, no, not nearly as bad in comparison, but the idea of spending an entire day in the tension she felt every time he had shown up thus far suddenly felt overwhelming and daunting. Not just for herself, but for Quinn, who she knew was dreading the day even more, because as hurt as she had been and as grief-stricken as she had been to lose her father, Rachel got the distinct impression that she didn't _want_ him to come back.

Rachel understood, to some extent. When Shelby came into her life, Rachel had no prior knowledge of her except what her fathers had chosen to tell her. So she longed to know the person who had given birth to her, to feel a connection. Quinn had already felt a connection with her father and had him rip it away.

And as strong as Quinn was, as strong as she wanted to be seen as, Rachel knew the rejection burned deep and that it injured her ability to trust, especially to trust him again. In the meantime, she'd moved on. She'd built a life that didn't revolve around her father's expectations, one in which he did not exist. Now he was back, disrupting that.

Rachel could understand that, in a way. Shelby's return after the first time she left was difficult to accept. Not nearly as difficult as it was for Quinn, who had once had a life with him, while Rachel had only had the hope of one and settled herself with the idea that it would never happen. But it was still difficult.

She could only hope, for Quinn, that Mr. Fabray's intentions were true, that he only wanted to be there for her in this difficult time. And then that Quinn would allow him some small fraction of her life again, and that her wounds from their last encounter would be better healed. Rachel wanted that ease of mind for Quinn.

But she wasn't sure it was going to happen, particularly since Quinn's mood went from pleasant and content the night before to tense and terse the morning of. She barely spoke through breakfast, made by Judy this time, dressed again in all black, and despite her mother's nudging, hardly ate a bite.

Rachel had to admit it was both amusing and a little off-putting to see Quinn act almost like a real teenager. Almost _pouting_. Had it not been for the circumstances, it would have been hilarious, but Rachel knew the attitude stemmed from real bitterness and real pain, so she curbed her thoughts in order to better comfort Quinn, with a hand on her knee or her fingers.

Mr. Fabray came early to pick them up in his rental car and politely opened the passenger door for Judy while Rachel and Quinn piled into the back, offering a good morning to all of them. The car was silent as he pulled out of the driveway and down the block.

Judy cleared her throat. "It was a beautiful service the other day, wasn't it?"

Mr. Fabray glanced back in the rearview mirror. "Yes, it was. We have a very eloquent daughter."

Quinn let out a puff of breath. Rachel set her hand over Quinn's, gently squeezing.

"We certainly do." Judy seemed to brighten. "Did I tell you she's gotten into Yale?"

"Yale?" Mr. Fabray glanced back at them again. "Quinn, that's…that's astounding, I'm proud of you."

Rachel felt more than heard Quinn sigh next to her.

"Not surprising at all, of course," Judy breathed out proudly. "She's always been brilliant, from day one."

"No doubt." His hands shifted on the wheel. "Remember the time…what was it? Third grade? We got called in because she told a teacher if he couldn't spell appearance – or whatever the word was – how could she trust that he knew how to spell anything?"

Rachel couldn't help but laugh, and neither, apparently, could Judy.

"Yes, I think it was third grade, Mr. Thompson, wasn't it, darling?" She craned her head around to look at them, and Quinn merely nodded.

"He never would look us in the eye at PTAs after that."

"Only because you told him you'd let her give him tutoring sessions – in front of the principal!" Judy giggled.

Rachel tried, she really did, to contain herself, for Quinn's sake, but the idea of little Quinn standing there in front of her teacher, already flinging her unexpected wit about – it was too much to bear. And then the idea of _Mr. Fabray_, reserved and stiff Mr. Fabray, backing her up with a dry, well-placed insult. The only thing that could improve upon it would be hearing that Judy had finished him off with a seemingly polite little comment and the three of them sweeping out of the room with that poise and elegance that seemed to come with being a Fabray.

Unfortunately, Quinn didn't quite feel the same way.

"Can we not do this?"

The entire car seemed to sober, and Rachel couldn't help an apologetic look Quinn's way. She received a kiss on her knuckles in answer and felt marginally lighter. That is, until she realized they had only just arrived in the church parking lot, and they still had hours left to get through Judy pretending nothing was amiss, Mr. Fabray trying to do the same, and Quinn most staunchly refusing to follow suit.

Rachel suddenly regretted not allowing the situation to blow up in the hospital rather than agreeing to come along on this tense little trip.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Rachel had never been inside the Catholic Church. Passed by it many times, on walks, or drives, or trips to other places, but it was just part of the scenery before. Just another church, one of many that stuck out with its cross proudly thrust toward the sky. Today it was different. It seemed massive, like a sore thumb today.

The inside wasn't much different than at temple. There were wooden pews, an altar and podium lifted up above it all, railing guarding the sacred symbols behind it. The ceilings were round and open, and stained glass windows decorated the room with multiple colors. The differences laid in the symbols being celebrated.

At temple, the Star of David was everywhere, and the occasional Hebrew text was spelled out in its foreign letters along the walls. Here were crosses and Jesus and Mary, and they were everywhere, painted in stained glass and more notably carved into the wall at the head of the church, a vision of the Virgin Mary holding her infant son.

It was all familiar and foreign at once. Familiar in the way people spoke in hushed tones before the service began, respectfully quiet but still eager to speak. Foreign in the way the service started, with the priest in magnificent, bright cloth, followed by other church members, and stopping to cross himself before he spoke and they were all allowed to sit.

Rachel tried to take in everything, not just out of her own personal curiosity about the workings of mass and Catholicism, but about the woman sitting next to her. In fact, the entire family sitting next to her – but mainly Quinn, who sat up straight beside her mother, but wore a look of disinterest that Rachel knew well, despite paying enough attention to nudge Rachel when it was time to stand or sit.

All of this, Rachel tried to remember, was as standard a routine to Quinn as reading the siddur or the sounding of the shofar on Rosh Hashana was to Rachel. So she tried to imagine what it would be like growing up on this, attending mass every Sunday to hear what the church program called the Act of Penitence or the communion rite. And at the same time, she had to wonder how a group of people had taken all of this and turned it into a reason to kill.

As the mass went on, she saw and heard nothing that indicated an eagerness toward violence. Nothing was even said about homosexuality, except when the priest reminded them all to pray for those who had been injured or lost in the hotel explosion. Then he moved on with the service, and nothing was mentioned again.

Rachel supposed that perhaps this was a more lenient church. After all, Quinn attended it and she had no problems with homosexuality. She'd also been hearing all of this all her life, probably like those who had twisted it up into some excuse to act like violent animals. Not that the men were necessarily Catholic, now that she thought about it. Maybe they were something else. Maybe Baptists.

It didn't really matter, though. In the end, anyone who could take something perfectly inoffensive like this and manipulate it into a justification for killing probably already had something else wrong with their heads, so denomination didn't matter. In a way, religion didn't even matter. They would have found an excuse, a way to be cruel and violent, no matter what.

Otherwise the Fabrays sitting next to her would be just as dangerous, and that certainly wasn't the case. Rachel took Quinn's hand into her lap with a nod to herself.

When the priest finally performed the concluding rite and exited, Quinn nudged Rachel to stand and the four of them waited their turn to file down the pew and head out into the fresh air. Rachel hadn't realized just how stuffy and warm it had been inside with all those bodies until the cool air hit her cheeks, and she let out a breath of relief.

"What did you think, Rachel?"

She whipped her head around behind them to Mr. Fabray, who smiled politely. She beamed.

"It was very interesting. I've never been to a Catholic service before, I had no idea it was so, so detailed!" She swung Quinn's arm between them and caught her smiling despite herself. "It was like going to synagogue, but not, at the same time. I can't explain it. A lot of rituals and tradition, but all different from ours." She nodded.

Mr. Fabray seemed, at the very least, amused, she gathered from the look on his face as they all piled into the car again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Very much." She nodded her head again.

"Good, then maybe you'll enjoy our next Sunday tradition."

"I hope you're hungry, Rachel," Judy interjected, smiling back at the two of them.

Rachel glanced at Quinn. "What's your next Sunday tradition? Breadstix?"

Quinn only shook her head, and Judy answered, "No, we tend to go for a heavier fare after church. And a little bit of a fancier place, if I do say so myself."

Rachel smiled. "I'm intrigued already."

The restaurant, it turned out, was about fifteen minutes out of town, practically hidden on a back country road, but Rachel could see what Judy meant by fancier than Breadstix. Breadstix was the kitschy type of Italian that was clearly trying too hard with food that was only just fit for human consumption. It was decorated with green, white, and red from the inside out, trying to scream Italian at the top of its lungs.

This place had a stylish gold and black theme, with a sign in swooping cursive announcing its name, The Brass Lantern. It was dim inside, so much so that Rachel had to blink a few times to adjust, though it was much better at their table. It was immediately evident by the menu and the smells that Judy also meant it when she said that it was a heavier fare of food. Fried chicken and juicy steak wafted through the air, taunting Rachel's nose, though she wrinkled it and determined to find something suitable for a vegan to eat.

She didn't have to look for long, however, as one of Quinn's fingers appeared in her line of vision and tapped over a couple of items with no offending products. Rachel offered her a bright smile in return.

Once their orders were in, Judy sat back and opened the conversation, as Rachel was beginning to realize might've been typical in this family. Mr. Fabray and Quinn were both the personification of silence, and it was even worse now that they didn't know what to say to each other. Or, in Quinn's case, didn't want to say anything.

"It was another lovely service today," Judy breathed out, and Mr. Fabray seemed instantly more comfortable.

"Mmhm, I'd forgotten what a charismatic speaker Reverend Davis is. Frannie's priest is such a bore, half the time I fall asleep with the toddlers."

Rachel glanced up to Quinn and she explained, "My sister."

She nodded then, lips forming an o before splitting into a smile again. "I always forget you have one."

"So do I," Quinn muttered, teasing lightly, and Rachel's stomach lowered from her throat again, until Mr. Fabray spoke up.

"She wanted to come out and see you, but Ted wanted her home."

Quinn shrugged. "If she wanted to be here, she would be."

"I thought it was very nice of the reverend to mention the hostage situation for our prayers, wasn't it, darling?" Judy smiled across at her.

Quinn pursed her lips. "Very nice, Mom."

Rachel reached over underneath the table to set a calming hand on Quinn's knee.

Mr. Fabray folded his hands together on the table. "Your sister and I still care about you very much, Quinn."

"Mmhm, that's why you rushed on out here when I was paralyzed, too," Quinn spat, and Rachel squeezed her knee in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

Mr. Fabray froze, his jaw loosening. "You…were paralyzed?"

Quinn's eyebrow rose, and Judy sighed.

"Darling, I hadn't told him about your car crash."

"She was in a car crash – she was _paralyzed_ – and you didn't call me?" His tone had grown cold as he frowned at Judy, his hands tightening together.

"To be perfectly honest with you, Russell, we didn't need you at the time," Judy said slowly.

"And we need him now?" Quinn scoffed.

"I needed him." Judy sighed. "Despite everything, he's your father, Quinn, and he's the only person who could understand what I was going through in those hours when you were locked up in a hotel with men threatening to kill you. I couldn't see you, I couldn't get to you, I couldn't protect you. And neither could he."

"No offense, Mom, but he couldn't understand, because he doesn't _care_."

Mr. Fabray dropped a fist on the table, hard enough to rattle the silverware. "If I didn't care, would I be here right now?"

"All this proves is that you still want to save face, because you already told me how much you care when you kicked me and my unborn baby – your _grandchild_ – out on the street with nowhere to go, and now you're making amends by showing off how much you care to the same damn people you were trying to impress before. Church, here. Where next, Daddy, you want to bring me around your old office?"

"Dammit, Quinn, I'm trying here," he growled. "I've invited your girlfriend here to dinner, haven't I?"

Rachel rubbed her thumb rapidly over Quinn's knee, almost for her own comfort more than Quinn's, because the blonde didn't even seem to feel it.

"Don't you dare bring Rachel into this," she warned darkly.

"You're the one who's brought her into this." Mr. Fabray pointed at her accusingly. "You're keeping her in your bed, at _our_ home – "

"It is NOT your home!" Quinn roared, and Rachel swallowed as the restaurant went quiet, save for the background music. "And it is not your business who I keep in my bed or anywhere else. God. You still think of us as your property, don't you? That you can come back here and work Mom over with some sweet little stories from when I was a little girl, and manipulate me into thinking you're somehow the daddy I once knew by pretending to be okay with the fact that I'm with a girl. All the while fuming inside because we're not living our lives the way you've told us to for so long.

"Well, get over it. You _chose_ to kick me out, and you _chose_ to cheat on my mom. You chose _not_ to be a part of our lives anymore and you know what? You're not. You're just a bad memory."

Quinn stood, and Rachel instantly followed suit, trailing her out of the restaurant and clinging to her arm until she came to an abrupt stop at the curb of the parking lot. Rachel wrapped her arms snugly around her thin waist then, kissing her shoulder over and over again in hopes of soothing her or draining at least some of the tension she felt in her entire frame. Quinn just sighed, dropping her head back and tickling Rachel's forehead with her silky hair, and set her hands on her hips.

"Do you see what I mean about emotional release now?" Rachel murmured, tentatively teasing.

Quinn snuffed, just a touch amused. "Yeah, well, I still feel like hitting something." She paused. "Not you."

Rachel smiled, setting her chin up on Quinn's shoulder. "I know you'd never hurt me, Quinn."

She turned about in Rachel's arms, opening her mouth to speak again, but she stopped, groaning as she looked over Rachel's head. Rachel glanced back to find Mr. Fabray stomping out of the restaurant, and Judy following after, grabbing for his elbow. She looked up to Quinn and kissed her cheek.

"Quinn!" Mr. Fabray bellowed.

"I'll deal with it, stay here." She promptly turned on her heel and started on her merry way, despite Quinn calling softly after her, and stopped right in front of Mr. Fabray. "That's close enough."

He glowered down at her, and Rachel saw for the first time what was behind that pleasant façade. She didn't particularly like it, but she kept a practiced, cheery look of determination on her face.

"You need to leave Quinn alone. If you keep chasing after her, all she's going to do is run even further away and then you'll never get her to come down from her tower," Rachel informed him evenly.

Mr. Fabray scowled. "Are you telling me how to deal with my daughter?"

"Yes, I am. I've been arguing with her a lot longer than you have, Mr. Fabray, and I know her. She is angry, she is hurt, and the more she feels those things, the more she's going to bottle up. And the more she bottles up, the harder it is for her to hear you, and for you to reach her. I believe that you're trying, Mr. Fabray. So trust me, and leave her alone."

She leveled her gaze at him, waiting for something – any indication that he was about to back down. He was so stone cold, just like Quinn when she was angry like this, it was equal measuring intimidating and frustrating. There was no reading a face like that, a face that told you one thing and one thing only, that they were furious.

But finally, a flicker of something in his eye, the slightest relaxation of his stance, and Rachel smiled in triumph as she whirled around to rejoin Quinn. Judy had slipped around them in the meantime, talking to Quinn quietly, and patted Rachel's shoulder when she returned.

"I was just telling Quinn I'm going to have a talk with my ex-husband; the two of you can head home if you want."

Rachel nodded, smiling proudly. "Maybe between the two of us he'll straighten out."

"Perhaps." Judy smiled and kissed Quinn's cheek, touching Rachel's briefly with a hand. "I'll see you girls later."

When she was gone, Rachel set her hands on her hips. "So, how are we getting home?"

Quinn's answer was to kiss her. Which, while Rachel was certainly not complaining, answered nothing at all. Still, she smiled into it, wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck, and hummed against her sweet pink lips.

"What was that for?"

Quinn said nothing, just gave her an enigmatic smile, and lifted her phone. "Hello, Mrs. Jones? I'm so sorry to bother you, it's Quinn Fabray. I was wondering if Sam was around, if I could talk to him."

#

Sam arrived only ten minutes later, earning himself a lecture on speeding from Rachel despite the many thank yous she also offered for picking them up. Mr. Fabray and Judy had gotten into the rental car in the meantime and still sat there when Sam pulled away with Quinn and Rachel in the backseat.

He looked much better than when Rachel had seen him in the hospital, or even than at the funeral. For the first time since it happened, his cheeks weren't shiny with tears, his eyes weren't red or puffed, and he was wearing something other than a tuxedo. Instead he was in jeans and a polo shirt that were a bit too big for him – he must've been borrowing them from Matt.

But he still had a sadness surrounding him. He didn't even ask what had happened. In fact, the only sound in the car was the occasional swipe of skin on the seats as Quinn and Rachel held a thumb war in the space between them. It at least put something of a smile back on Quinn's face, which relaxed Rachel more than anything.

When Sam finally spoke, it was only after Quinn and Rachel had thanked him one more time and gotten out of the car, and he rolled down his window to grab Quinn's hand.

"Hey." He seemed to struggle. "You guys are like chocolate and vanilla swirl, too."

Then, before either of them could say anything, he backed his car out of the driveway and drove off with such speed that Rachel was tempted to call him again for another lecture on speeding. But she was a little too touched by his words to go through with it, and instead followed Quinn back into the house to get into their pajamas and stick another movie into Quinn's laptop, snacking on unbuttered popcorn the rest of the night.

#

"Morning."

Quinn's voice was the most wonderful thing to wake up to. Especially pre-brushing her teeth, pre-clearing her throat or drinking anything. It was husky and low, and it sent tingles all up and down Rachel's spine and down to her toes, tickling her lips into a smile.

"Mmm, morning."

Quinn's eyes were the second most wonderful thing to wake up to; the way they sparkled down at Rachel.

"Sleep well?"

Rachel stretched. "Amazing, as always."

"Good. Do you want to go to the hospital today?"

Rachel hadn't been able to face Kurt the day after Mercedes' funeral. She knew she'd melt down, tell him everything, and that he wasn't ready, he wasn't well enough, to hear it. So when Quinn had asked on Saturday morning, if she wanted to go to the hospital, she'd said no. But now it was Monday again. A whole week had passed since that nightmare.

Even if she couldn't handle it, she wanted to be there for Kurt today. He was like Quinn in one way, and possibly one way only – he wasn't very good at expressing himself. But there the similarities ended, because Quinn wasn't very good at it in an entirely different way. Kurt could do it, if he sang or if he was angry or upset enough, but when it was himself he was angry at?

He avoided the feeling then. He couldn't handle the guilt. Today it would be worse, so even though Rachel knew Blaine would be there to comfort him, she wanted to be there, too.

"Yes. I need to," she murmured, and Quinn nodded, stroking her hair from her face.

"I'll get ready and get breakfast around for us then." She kissed Rachel's temple, but didn't move her body just yet. "I'm sorry about yesterday. The way I acted."

Rachel's brow furrowed as she peeked up at her, smiling a little. "The way _you_ acted? Quinn, please. All you did was express how you feel and there is nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, as uncomfortable as the situation was – " Quinn ducked her head, so Rachel did the same to catch her eyes " – I was proud of you. For standing up for yourself, and for us."

She traced Quinn's jaw with the back of her hand, and Quinn's smile returned a fraction of its brightness.

"I want you to know you can be yourself with me," Rachel murmured hopefully.

She received another kiss, this time on the hand, before Quinn smiled and stood up to get around for the day. Judy had gone back to work for the week, as had Rachel's fathers, or so her texts told her. With the crisis over, things were getting back to normal, or as normal as they'd ever be again.

Judy hadn't told them anything about her conversation with Mr. Fabray when she finally came home, and though Rachel was dying to know about it, she followed Quinn's lead and didn't ask. Instead, she just smiled as Judy wished them both good night and said she was going back to work because her bosses were getting itchy, apparently, despite telling her to take as much time as she needed. Her daughter hadn't died, after all, so taking eternity off wasn't acceptable, evidently.

In any case, Judy gone meant Rachel was treated to another breakfast from Quinn, and though toast with refried beans and avocados wasn't nearly as extravagant as the other meals, it was just as delicious. And probably for the best for their stomachs, given the anniversary the day would now and likely forever represent to them.

Rachel agonized over whether to get Blaine and Kurt something. A balloon, or flowers, or something to celebrate their one week anniversary. The hospital gift shop had plenty of adorable things to offer, but it felt wrong. Even if it might cheer them up to think of the fact that they were married now, it wouldn't take their minds off what happened after their wedding, or that they weren't on their honeymoon because of it.

She had to wonder what they would do. Would they remarry? Try a different day to mark a better occasion? Or forever remember that day as the one that both tied them together and took away Kurt's best friend and his dad? She supposed it would be a way of making the day not seem so heavy and so horrible, but for herself, she couldn't bring herself to knot the day Mercedes died with the day she sort of got together with Quinn.

One was too awful a memory, the other one too good, and together they just made a jumbled mess. So it was best to keep them separate. Especially since it seemed the horror of last week wasn't over yet.

When Rachel and Quinn arrived on the right floor, they found it absolutely swarming with cops and police tape. Rachel's throat was seizing around her stomach just at the sight of them all milling about. Quinn's hands on her shoulders were steadying, though, and she pulled herself together enough to find Finn's face in the mayhem, to lead Quinn over to him.

"Finn? What's going on? What happened?"

He stared at them, from Rachel to Quinn and back again. Rachel hadn't seen his face so angry since she'd told him she made out with Noah. Still, she couldn't bring herself to back away. He was the only person she recognized, and they had to know what happened, if Kurt and Blaine and Noah and Mrs. Hummel and Mr. Schuester were okay.

Finn dropped his head down closer to her as he muttered, "Maybe if you were with your best friend instead of making out with your new girlfriend, you'd know."

Rachel pressed her lips together, feeling Quinn move closer.

"Finn. What happened?" she repeated.

He scowled. "Gabriel was in Kurt's room last night."

Rachel covered her mouth. "Oh, my God."

"He's okay. Well, sort of. Gabriel opened up his wound again, they had to do more surgery," Finn explained, and his voice wavered from sympathetic and reassuring to tight and bitter, back and forth.

"Oh, God. Quinn."

Quinn promptly hugged her, tightly anchoring her, and Rachel gripped onto her shirt with white knuckles.

"Why didn't he kill him?" Quinn wondered.

"I walked in on him," Finn growled then. "He was standing over Kurt with a knife, covering his mouth, I yelled, and he knocked me down and ran out."

Rachel turned into Quinn's side to look at him and to get further under her comforting arm, eyes widening despite her tears. "You saw him?"

Finn frowned. "I didn't get a good look. It was dark. But I know it was him."

She shook her head. "I can't believe…why would he go after Kurt? He hasn't done anything, he – "

"Kurt said…he said something about sending a message and finishing what he started," he said begrudgingly.

"Did Kurt get a better look?" Quinn prompted this time.

Finn shrugged. "Not really. Gave pretty much the same description as I did. He was limping, but it was definitely him."

"Limping." Quinn hummed, under her breath, and Rachel closed her eyes, pressing her ear closer to listen.

Finn nodded. "Yeah. What, that some kind of clue to you? Big hero?"

Rachel frowned and peered up at Quinn, but she only cocked her eyebrow.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of insult?"

Finn straightened. "Maybe it is."

"Mm. Sad," Quinn retorted, and Rachel was more than willing to walk away with her when she felt her start to tug, but Finn spoke up again, more eagerly this time.

"Cause we all know who you really are, right, Quinn? Not some hero, not some angel, not some innocent little victim. You're just a manipulating cheater who'd rather steal somebody else's girlfriend than save one of your best friends."

Rachel's jaw dropped, and Quinn froze. But before Rachel could even begin to reprimand him, to rise up and strike him down with a novel's worth of angry words for presuming to speak about Quinn that way – and after they dated! – and after she'd saved them! – Sam appeared, almost out of nowhere, and gave Finn a push to the chest as he stepped between them.

"Hey. Show a little respect."

Finn didn't seem to know what to say at first. "Same kind of respect you showed me when Quinn was sneaking around with me behind _your_ back?"

"The kind of respect you owe the person who's the reason your stepbrother's alive," Sam snapped. "And even if you can't muster any up for that reason, you dated Quinn, too. I get that you're hurt, but don't you have any respect for anyone you've dated?"

"She doesn't have any respect for me, obviously." Finn gestured wildly in Rachel's direction, and she grimaced, tucking herself closer to Quinn. "And you must not have a lot of respect for Mercedes if you're defending her when she didn't even think about saving her, she just got her precious Santana and Brittany out. You sleeping with them, too?"

Sam stepped aggressively closer to Finn. "It is not Quinn's fault that she's dead. In fact, if anyone's to blame for this shit, it's you, _Finn_."

He was flabbergasted. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. You're the one who jumped the gun, you triggered the cops to come in before they could safely resolve things. You forced them into a gun-to-gun confrontation and Mercedes _died_. You get it? You set the whole goddamn thing in motion because _you_ couldn't wait!"

"He was…he was gonna shoot my mom, my _mom_!"

"He was gonna shoot everybody! You are such a goddamn selfish prick, you know that?" Sam's chest heaved. "Quinn's the reason most of us are alive, and I know, I get it, you lash out and shit when you're mad, and every time something bad happens you go back to sophomore year when everything was Quinn and Puck's fault, but that was three years ago. Let it go. Just get the hell over it. They have."

Finn just stared, completely dumbfounded. Rachel could see the wheels turning, the confusion burning up in his head until he couldn't take anymore, and he walked away. He needed time to work things out, and Rachel couldn't be the one to help him anymore. Especially not after that display.

She relaxed into Quinn's side, under the arm that hadn't moved from her shoulders since she cuddled into her, and just as she was about to thank Sam profusely for stepping in before Finn could hurt Quinn more than he already had, Quinn herself spoke.

"Sam. Why do you have a gun?"


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Quinn maybe, perhaps, might've accidentally smirked at Finn. For a moment or two. Maybe twice. First when Rachel collapsed against her for comfort, and he looked as though he had swallowed something very sour, and then when Sam came to her defense. It had been a long time since that had happened, after all, and frankly, Finn deserved it.

But all that smugness that had started to build faded the moment Quinn spied the outline of a gun under Sam's t-shirt, hooked in his belt at the base of his back. By the time Finn walked away, he was no longer a concern. The idea that grief-stricken, angry Sam was walking around with a gun, on the other hand, was.

"Relax, the safety's on," he offered unhelpfully, moving closer to the two of them to speak in hushed tones.

"_Sam_," Rachel scolded, eyes wide and mouth open. "A _gun_? Are you crazy? What are you thinking walking into the hospital with that thing? What are you thinking having it at all?! Do you not realize how dangerous that is?!"

Sam sighed. "Hey. It's fine, I have a license for it, I know how to use it."

Quinn scowled at him, puzzled. "How did you get a license in a week?"

"I applied, went to the twelve hour class, and the commissioner found out I was one of the hostages, so he put a rush on it." He shrugged. "I just got it today."

"What do you even want a gun for after what we've all been through?" Rachel hissed.

"_Because_ of what we've been through. And because of who's still out there."

"For Gabriel," Quinn concluded.

He nodded. "Yeah. For Gabriel."

"And what do you think you're going to do? Hunt him down like the cops haven't been able to and kill him? You realize regardless of what he did, you'd be charged with first degree murder, right?"

"Self defense," he corrected. "He'll show up again, you know he will, and I'll be the one to take him out when he does, like the cops wouldn't."

"Couldn't. _Couldn't_, Sam," Rachel cut in again. "Because we could've all died if they had tried."

"You've taken one twelve hour class, you think that makes you a gun expert?" Quinn shook her head. "Let's say he does show up. Takes one of us hostage, or uses one of us as a shield. Are you going to shoot at him anyway? Risk killing one of us because you're too hooked on revenge to think about the consequences?"

"Consequences are all I'm thinking about. I'm being smart about this, okay? The way I see it, we all need to protect ourselves, I'm just being proactive."

"You're not trying to protect yourself, you're trying to get him back for killing Mercedes."

"So what?! Don't you want that, too?"

Quinn sighed and ground her teeth. "Of course I do, but…"

Rachel petted her arm. "But this isn't the way. Don't you see that you're only perpetuating what they did? Solving your anger by throwing a weapon at it? This is how it all starts, Sam. Taking the easy way out, turning fear into an excuse for violence."

"You really think this guy understands anything _but_ violence? That he's gonna show up and be won over by, what? _Explaining_ that gays are okay and killing is wrong?" Sam scowled. "If a bear comes at you, you don't try to reason with it. You shoot to save your life."

"But this is a human being, Sam. An admittedly…demented human being, but a human being nonetheless," Rachel emphasized. "And if this was just for self-defense purposes, I – we wouldn't like it, but we'd understand. After everything that happened, of course you want a way to protect yourself. But you've done this to _kill someone_, Sam!"

Sam frowned down at her for a long time before he looked at Quinn. "You. You can't tell me you wouldn't do the same if Rachel had died."

"She's alive, I can't say what I would've done," she murmured, avoiding both sets of eyes on her.

"If Gabriel…came back and held Rachel hostage, again, threatened her life, _again_," Sam said, louder now. "What would you do, Quinn?"

Quinn stared down the floor, at a juncture of four tiles. It was the only thing she could bear to look at, at the moment. She couldn't deny the very point Sam was trying to make, even if it meant losing this argument, losing the fight to convince him not to carry a gun for the purpose of killing someone. Because honestly, she understood how he felt.

She was sure that Rachel did, too. How could she not? How could they all not have contemplated the idea of killing Gabriel? Quinn had even tried, shooting at him when he had the detonator. It wasn't a conscious decision to murder at the time, but she had been trying to stop him and if he had died and the explosion hadn't gone off because of it, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to feel guilty.

But Rachel was different. Rachel valued peace over violence every time, if at all possible. As angry as she was, as much as she feared Gabriel and his return, she'd prefer that the cops caught and arrested him. Not that he died. Quinn understood that, too.

She still couldn't deny that if Gabriel had Rachel in his clutches, again, she'd kill him to get her back.

"That's not fair, Sam," Rachel murmured.

He spoke over her. "That's what I thought."

Quinn closed her eyes for a moment. "Carry your gun. After Gabriel's taken care of – dead _or_ arrested – put it away."

Sam relaxed his stance and nodded, stepping away from them. Rachel ran her hands through her hair, sighing after him and shifting around in front of Quinn.

"A gun? What can he be thinking?"

Quinn hesitated. "He's right, to some extent. We need to be able to protect ourselves."

Rachel worried her lip, folding her arms. "I know that's what he's claiming, but I can't help but worry he's going to do something really reckless and-and shoot, maybe even kill, someone who's innocent just because he _thinks_ it might be Gabriel or something."

"He has the license. We can't stop him."

She stared at Quinn for a moment, scratching her arm. "It wasn't fair of him to ask that."

She shrugged. "He's…he's right, though. If…"

"Miss Fabray. We've been looking for you," a voice called, and Rachel turned into her side again. Quinn could practically feel the displeasure rolling off of Rachel as Cooper approached them. "I guess you heard what happened last night?"

Quinn nodded, shifting slightly in front of Rachel. "We just spoke with our friends, they told us. Where was your guard when all this happened?"

"Getting coffee. He's been reprimanded, and you are being placed under police protection."

Quinn's eyebrow lifted. "Meaning…?"

"Meaning there will be two officers on you at all times," he explained. "A suicide, suspected murder is one thing. A confirmed sighting by two eye witnesses is another. We're keeping you guarded from now on."

"Finally," Rachel scoffed against her shoulder.

"Now, they won't get in your way, but where you go, they go. Don't try to lose them, don't try to stop them from doing their job. If they go into a building or a room before you, you wait outside until they say it's okay. Understood?"

"Are you and Anderson on it?"

Cooper shook his head. "No, and there will be rotating guards, but one shift won't leave until the other arrives. If he comes after you, someone will be there."

Quinn nodded. "Thank you."

"They'll be following you when you leave today."

He tipped his hat and stepped away, and Rachel tugged at Quinn's arm until she turned about for another long hug.

"I thought they'd never protect you," Rachel sighed next to her ear. "They'd just keep making excuses until it was too late."

"I'm okay." Quinn stroked her long, beautiful hair down.

She leaned back to look her in the eye. "Right now you are. And now you're going to be, because they'll be near to save you." Her brightened expression dropped again.

"What is it?"

"I forgot to ask about Kurt! Oh, God, what if they just leave him to fend for himself, even after everything?!" She cupped her mouth with both hands, and Quinn took them carefully in her own.

"I doubt…well, I doubt Gabriel will come back for him, but I also doubt the police will allow another mistake. But just so you know for sure, why don't you go see him?"

Rachel nodded slowly, her breathing calming. "Will you come with me? I know…you and Kurt don't really get along, but – "

"I'll come." Quinn squeezed her hands.

Rachel smiled then, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of Quinn's mouth, before she turned and lead the way down the hallway toward Kurt's room. When they arrived, a cop was standing outside, and Finn and Blaine were already inside with Kurt, still unconscious after his surgery. Rather than leave, Finn slumped in a chair in the corner opposite from where Quinn positioned herself, wearing a rather sour look on his face.

It was the kind he wore when he knew he'd been a jerk but didn't want to apologize. Quinn recognized it from when they had dated most especially, but of course, when they were dating, they often traded the asshole hat back and forth. She could've been kinder. Less harsh and demeaning, particularly after she found out she was pregnant. But then, Finn could've improved, too.

He made the same mistakes in their relationship as he did with Rachel – primarily, being inconsiderate. Rachel was just far more forgiving than Quinn, which Quinn supposed made sense, given how madly in love Rachel was and how indifferent Quinn was.

She couldn't help but look between them as she stood on the sidelines to Blaine and Rachel fussing over Kurt's wellbeing – talk of the surgery and how it went had turned to whether this meant delaying telling him about his best friend and father even further. Finn watched Rachel inattentively, scratching the bandage on his bicep and adjusting his sling between bouts of pouty staring.

It reminded her of when Rachel had been with Jesse. Or when Finn had been trying to win her back after dumping Quinn. The moon eyes. Love eyes.

Quinn didn't expect, of course, that Finn's love for Rachel would just disappear within a week of her ending the relationship. As a matter of fact, she didn't expect Rachel's love to disappear, either. However, she had spent enough time watching the two of them and their love eyes to last a lifetime, and the longer she had to sit there enjoying more of it, the more agitated she became.

She tried to withstand it, for Rachel's sake. Rachel wanted her near, always now. Understandable. She'd been the one to save Rachel, she felt safe with Quinn. It felt nice, to be wanted and needed, and spectacular to be wanted and needed by Rachel. So spectacular that Quinn occasionally got carried away and forgot the kind of spectacle playing out in front of her at the moment.

Finn staring, itching, staring, adjusting. Rachel must've felt his gaze – or maybe she just wanted to look over at him, too – because occasionally she would glance to him in the corner, concern easily found in her big eyes, and then abruptly look away. More often, she would peer up at Quinn and smile appreciatively, and it was that that kept her still.

Wondering what Finn was thinking certainly wasn't helping, after all, but Quinn couldn't help it. Was he thinking of how he would get Rachel back? Was he simply drinking in her beauty? Was he trying to stare her into submission, into coming back to his arms? Was he envisioning her naked?

Quinn hoped not, not only because they were all standing there next to Kurt who had just been through another bout of hell thanks to Gabriel. But the idea itched at the back of her brain like something had crawled up her neck and into her ear. It made her squirm.

Finn had seen Rachel in all her naked glory. He'd made love to her, been inside her. It wouldn't be uncommon for him to think of her like that, especially now that he believed he'd lost her, he'd be cherishing those moments. Or at least Quinn would be. Even with Rachel lying at her side every night, she still thought about when they were in the elevator, when she'd gotten to touch her, even only briefly, and Finn had experienced so much more of that.

Just as Quinn thought she might scream if she didn't get away from Finn staring at Rachel, Kurt stirred, and after Blaine brought him a cool cup of water, muttered, "Where's Dad?"

#

Blaine, Rachel, and Finn managed to put Kurt off for the time being. Of course, Finn left as soon as Kurt accepted the answer that his dad would be there soon. Quinn could see the guilt clearly on every face in the room, but Finn particularly couldn't handle it. She understood why, of course. It was more difficult for him to accept a lie for someone's good after what Quinn herself had lied about sophomore year. Blaine and Rachel, on the other hand, were capable of the distinction, though they feared the consequences when Kurt did find out.

Quinn stood by silently for most of the rest of the day, while Blaine and Rachel stared up at the TV and then at Kurt whenever he seemed to stir. When her mother got out of work, she received a text asking if they were still at the hospital, and then a half an hour later she showed up with fast food for all of them, a salad for Rachel, and the four of them sat around Kurt's hospital bed forcing down their junk food.

Blaine seemed to be holding up fairly well, Quinn noted, seated across from him. He wasn't exactly clean shaven, but after the first couple days, he had a new outfit on, probably brought by his parents or someone, she assumed. He ate heartily, and his primary concern seemed to be that Kurt was doing well. She wondered if it was what was keeping his mind off of what happened, keeping his mind on maintaining his new husband's health.

After all, Quinn couldn't imagine the hell he'd been through. Marrying the man he loved and in the same day, having him shot and nearly bleed to death before his eyes. Having to sew him up, bandage him up, not knowing if he'd just done a good or bad job and either way, if Kurt would still die.

She tried, for a moment, to put herself in his shoes, to put Rachel in Kurt's shoes. The very idea ended with her refusing another bite of her greasy burger. She admired Blaine's strength.

When her mother left, Quinn and Rachel followed shortly after, the latter making Blaine promise to tell Kurt they'd be back when he woke up. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Quinn spied a squad car following them out, and some part of her relaxed, knowing Cooper had been truthful with them.

For all the trust she'd been putting in Anderson, Quinn could see Rachel's point, even if it had been made in anger. Mainly she could see the point in Cooper. Despite their duties, despite it being their job, not all cops in Lima might be eager to help out a bunch of people attacked for being gay. And Cooper especially appeared, to her, to have an attitude that might just stem from the displeasure of serving and protecting a 'lifestyle' he didn't agree with. She could be wrong, she knew. Perhaps Cooper was just an ass.

Quinn was very rarely wrong, though.

Rachel was quiet that evening, and Quinn could see the guilt had taken hold and was refusing to depart from her. But she didn't say anything, letting Rachel take her time changing into pajamas and then curling up under the covers next to her. Letting her get settled in and comfortable, while Quinn leaned up on her elbow and stroked brunette hair from her face.

"We're going to have to tell him," Rachel mumbled at length.

Quinn only nodded, watching Rachel struggle with tears that fought their way to her eyes.

"He's going to hate me."

"No," Quinn murmured, lifting a hand to her jaw. "He's going to be angry. But he won't hate you."

She shook her head a little and sniffled. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Because you love him. So he can't."

Rachel seemed calmed by that answer, somehow, and nuzzled into Quinn's neck, tickling her skin with her breaths and her stray hair. Quinn closed her eyes and gathered her up closer to her chest, wrapping her up in both arms until Rachel fell asleep.

#

Mrs. Hummel, Blaine, and Finn were waiting for them when Quinn and Rachel arrived at the hospital the next morning. They seemed to have taken over the empty waiting room nearest Kurt's room as their meeting area, two coffee cups waiting on the magazine table while the rest of them sipped at Styrofoam cups. Mrs. Hummel was still being supported by a neck brace, and Finn still wore a sling. Blaine handed the cups up to them immediately when they arrived, but Mrs. Hummel was the first to speak, as they sat.

"Good morning, Rachel. Quinn."

"Good morning." Rachel smiled. Quinn could see the anxiety in the edge of it, the way her lips trembled. "You look much better, Mrs. Hummel, and you're not in a hospital gown, have you been released?"

She nodded, as much as one could nod in a neck brace. "Finn and I were released this morning. And so was your glee coach. We'll be…going home this afternoon to take care of the arrangements and to…sort through some things…" She trailed off, dabbing her eyes. "I'm not expecting that Kurt will want us around after…"

"Do you really think it's a good idea to tell him today?" Rachel blurted, fiddling with the hem of her skirt and grabbing for Quinn's hand. She squeezed lightly. "We weren't telling him because he'd just been shot and almost bled to death and we didn't want him to go into shock. Now he's had his wound cut open again, maybe we should keep holding off…"

"Until when?" Blaine prompted quietly.

"You weren't so eager to put things off last week," Finn grumbled, slouched in his chair.

Quinn straightened, and he looked away.

Rachel sighed. "I just don't want Kurt to suffer anymore."

"Then this is the last step," Mrs. Hummel answered. "Before he can move on. Before any of us can."

After another moment of silence, Rachel finally nodded, conceding to the point, and they all stood. Quinn held onto Rachel's hand for another moment.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Rachel nodded rapidly, tugging her up. "Always."

The five of them walked to Kurt's room, in the slowest parade Quinn had ever been in, she was sure. As she closed the door behind them, the last in line, Kurt stared around, perked up considerably from the day before, though still pale, even for him. Quinn flattened herself to the wall behind Rachel, though she kept their hands linked.

"You're not going to perform some kind of exorcism, cult healing ritual on me, are you?"

Kurt's anxiety was clear in his voice, and again, Mrs. Hummel took the initiative to speak first.

"We have something to tell you, Kurt." She glanced at the others, Kurt's husband, his stepbrother, his best friend, outside of Mercedes. "We all love you."

"I know…" Kurt fiddled with his sheets, and Quinn felt her hand cramp from how tightly Rachel gripped it.

"And after last week, after what you went through to survive, what we all went through to keep you alive, we didn't want to do anything to jeopardize your recovery," Mrs. Hummel explained slowly.

"We wanted to protect you," Blaine interjected.

Kurt hesitated. "Protect me from what?"

All of them, even Rachel, shuffled their feet. None of them wanted to be the one to say it, to be the one to break Kurt's heart, to shatter the last shred of hope in his eyes. Who wanted to be the one to deliver this kind of news to anyone? That their dad, the person who loved them and raised them and accepted them, was dead. That their best friend, the person who loved them and listened to them and accepted them, was dead, too.

Not even a stranger could bear that kind of responsibility. How was a husband, a brother, a mother, a best friend supposed to? Sometimes, someone had to be the bad guy.

"Your dad suffered a heart attack during the explosion," Quinn heard herself saying. "And Mercedes didn't make it out in time. They're both gone."

Rachel looked at her, eyes already welling with tears, and mouthed 'thank you.' Quinn nodded.

Kurt's face twisted several times, even after the moments in which Quinn was distracted. She couldn't even get a read on all of the emotions coursing over his face, but anger was evident when he finally looked at his family, his friends. His brow was furrowed tightly, his jaw wound shut, pulsing as his pale face was blotched with a nasty shade of red.

"Mercedes…Dad…she's – I…no. No. You told me, you told me he'd be here soon, you told me she was in the hospital." He looked from face to face, begging. "You _told me_ they wanted me to get better."

"I'm sorry," Rachel cried first. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"We wanted to tell you," Blaine added, tears trailing down his own cheeks in silence.

Kurt was silent again, struggling.

"I'm sorry, Kurt." Finn shuffled, hand deep in his jeans pocket. "I know it sucks."

"Sucks…is a word for it." Kurt seemed to swallow bile, his face pinched. "So not only is my best friend and my…" He choked. "My dad…not only are they _dead_. But everyone else who's supposed to care about me…are a bunch of fucking liars."

Rachel visibly grimaced, and Quinn stepped closer, stroking her back.

"We were trying to protect you," Mrs. Hummel repeated evenly.

"Protect me from _what_?! You couldn't pretend they weren't alive forever, did you think you could?!"

"We didn't want you to hurt yourself," Blaine mumbled.

Rachel spoke up just as mournfully. "We thought you might have a setback."

"A setback. Hurt myself. You seriously thought it would be better to wait? Newsflash! It doesn't matter! They're _still dead_! _I still killed them_!"

Blaine's jaw dropped. "What?"

Rachel went forward. "Kurt, you didn't – "

"Didn't what?" He wiped his cheeks and his nose furiously. "Didn't have a wedding that was being threatened for weeks? Didn't refuse to move it someplace else, wait to have it someplace else? I didn't lead everyone into that nightmare, I didn't get those people shot? _I did this_! I was too selfish to give in, and I got them killed because of it."

"You weren't selfish," Blaine growled, moving toward him. Kurt put up a hand to stop him. "You were courageous. You didn't give in to fear."

"And now my best friend and my dad are dead," Kurt answered coldly.

"Kurt…" Mrs. Hummel sighed, folding and unfolding her hands. "You couldn't have known…"

"It wasn't your fault, it was mine. I jumped Gabriel and that set off the explosion," Finn jumped in desperately.

"And I set the whole thing in motion. And you…you all lied about it. You _told me_ they were fine! You let me believe – get out! Just get out! All of you! I don't want to see your faces ever again! Do you understand me? GET OUT!"

Finn caught the pillow thrown haphazardly at them, staring wide-eyed at Kurt, screaming at the top of his lungs in rage and pain. Blaine tried one more time to hold him, to calm him. Kurt shoved him away, and Quinn held open the door for all of them. Mrs. Hummel passed through first, tugging out a handkerchief with Kurt's dad's initials on it as she went. Finn followed, setting the pillow on a chair. Blaine came at last, going to the waiting room.

Rachel hesitated. "Kurt…we just…we just thought we were doing the right thing. We love you."

His glower said everything, but he spat hoarsely, "No wonder you like her all of a sudden. You're just like her. Fucking liar."

Rachel grimaced again.

"That's enough." Quinn's voice dropped to steel. "Stop."

Kurt snuffed. "Why should I? She – "

"Because they care about your feelings. I don't. You talk to her like that again, you'll pay the price."

Quinn sneered in response to his quivering mouth and took Rachel's hand more firmly in her own, pulling her away and out of the room, where she immediately collapsed back into Quinn's arms, sobbing for all she was worth.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Rachel didn't think she'd ever be able to stop crying. Not only for the pain on Kurt's face when Quinn told him the truth, not only for the anger he spewed at them – but also because it felt like finding out Mercedes and Mr. Hummel were dead all over again. It was yet another reaffirmation that they were gone. They weren't coming back.

Mr. Hummel wouldn't get to live the rest of his life with Mrs. Hummel, or go to Finn's wedding, or see that his son was okay. It was something of a consolation, at the least, that he had been at Kurt's wedding, that he had walked him down the aisle. And Mercedes had been there, too, acting with Rachel as a maid of honor for Kurt. But Mercedes would never marry. Never have kids. Never become an award-winning singer like she deserved.

It hit Rachel all over again, all the nevers and the what ifs, at the same time as Kurt's anger and pain hit her. She had known all along that he would be hurt and angry that they had kept it from him, but to see him screaming at them to get out – even at his own husband, rejected in the midst of his hurt – it was almost unbearable. She had been a part of that, she had agreed to the decision, and caused him this pain and she wondered if Kurt would ever really forgive any of them.

Rachel didn't know if she could bear it. While Finn had been her first friend, the first person to be kind to her, it wasn't a real friendship. Not with their feelings muddying the waters. Kurt was her first real friend. Her first best friend. Despite his brutal honesty and her obnoxiousness – or perhaps because of these qualities – they had bonded and they understood each other in ways most other people couldn't. They understood each other's ambition and passion for music, and they became each other's support system outside of all the other glee members. What would she do without that?

She knew she was being horribly selfish, thinking only of how this would affect her, not Mrs. Hummel, not Finn, not Blaine. Not even Kurt. But just like Finn, the only person who'd ever loved her, the only thing she'd had left – Rachel felt the need to cling to Kurt. The only friend she had, especially now that Mercedes was gone.

In the absence of Kurt, unable to beg his forgiveness, Rachel clung to Quinn. Being with her safe place, her island, instantly soothed her despite the barrage of tears still claiming her cheeks. Quinn, as always, didn't seem to mind. She just stroked her hair, holding her, and when Rachel had calmed enough to loosen her grip, led her back out to the car to drive her home.

Quinn wrapped Rachel up in blankets again once they arrived in her room, after she had changed into a cotton nightgown, and lay down with her, spooning her while Rachel cried and cried. Sometimes loudly, sobbing into the pillow to muffle it and holding Quinn's arms around her tighter, begging for the firmness to remind her of that loving presence. Sometimes silently, snuffling and closing her eyes in contentedness as Quinn caressed and kissed her.

Rachel wasn't sure when she fell asleep, exactly, but when she woke, Quinn was gone. Not in bed, not in the room, and Rachel heard no sounds from the bathroom. The dim light from beneath the curtains told her she'd slept through to the morning. Her stomach rumbled angrily, demanding attention, but she just curled up in an even tighter ball and held herself, until Quinn swept back into the room – dressed, for the first time in a week, in something other than black.

In fact, Quinn was practically dressed to the nines, in a long wavy cream skirt and a white button-down blouse with front pockets, open enough to tease at her cleavage. Shockingly enough, she looked absolutely ravishing. Rachel almost smiled at the sight of her.

"Good morning," Rachel mumbled curiously.

Quinn shot a brief smile of her own down at Rachel, but breezed straight past the bed to open her curtains up, humming something under her breath. Rachel grimaced and hid from the suddenly blinding sun beneath a blanket, groaning aloud.

"Morning," Quinn answered brightly, and Rachel felt the bed dip before the protection of the blanket was yanked down. "We're getting out of here."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, blinking to adjust. "Huh?"

"Out. Out of this room, out of this house. Out of Lima. Just for today," Quinn announced, leaning forward to kiss Rachel's bangs before she stood and sauntered over to Rachel's suitcase, plopping it on the bed. "We've spent too long cooped up, moping. We're going out."

Rachel blinked again, watching Quinn more closely after her initial appraisal. She was positively _glowing_. She was, Rachel realized, excited. To be getting out, to be leaving the house and the town, going out. With Rachel. She smiled to herself suddenly, chewing her lip.

"Going out on a date?"

Quinn peered at her from beneath those long lashes, and Rachel's stomach tingled curiously. "You'll never find out if you don't get around."

Rachel was out of bed in record time, but just as she reached the bathroom doorway, a thought occurred to her.

"Wait. What about the police escort?"

Quinn smiled. "I spoke to them earlier, they'll be following us. Now if you don't hurry, we're not going to have time for everything, so scoot."

Rachel grinned, the teasing tone putting pep in her step as she bounded into the shower, skipping her usual acoustical opera for the morning and applying only a touch of makeup afterward. She practically hopped down the stairs, in a blue-striped top and matching navy skirt, to find Quinn waiting in the kitchen, newspaper spread out on the countertop. She smiled as they met eyes.

"Ready?"

Rachel nodded rapidly, beaming. She even forgot about her rumbling tummy until they arrived in the car, where the sweet smell of coffee and bagels waited. The coffee cups were already sitting in the cup holders, but Quinn reached into the backseat to retrieve the closed bag of bagels with the Lima Bean logo across the side, setting them in Rachel's lap. She pulled one out immediately, biting into toasty goodness.

"You've been a busy beaver this morning," Rachel hummed around a bite.

Rather than answer, Quinn only smirked and hooked her iPod up to the radio, turning on a playlist of what Rachel soon discovered were a selection of the great divas singing their greatest songs. She couldn't help but stare at Quinn, who shrugged, hands on the wheel at precisely ten and two.

"I downloaded them last night."

Rachel abandoned another bite of her bagel in favor of kissing Quinn's cheek. She spent the majority of the drive multitasking – going from eating, sips of coffee, looking at road signs to see where they could possibly be headed, and belting songs at the top of her lungs. She figured out, after a bit, that Quinn had likely done all this on purpose, to keep Rachel's mouth occupied so she couldn't bother her about where they were headed, and her chest swelled with pride over her cleverness.

About halfway into the playlist, Rachel also realized that Quinn had not only done a very thorough job of avoiding songs she had sung to or with Finn, but avoiding ones with Kurt or Mercedes, as well. It was then that Rachel came to the final realization that Quinn was not necessarily taking her on a date – nor was she not taking her on a date. That wasn't the point. This was Quinn's way of cheering Rachel up. To get her mind off things and surround her with things she loved, but that also wouldn't remind her of what was causing her angst.

It was this realization that made it very difficult for Rachel not to stare Quinn down with big, loving eyes while she sang along to The Music of the Night. Not that she would've had a problem with doing so, quite openly, normally, but Quinn was driving. And she imagined being stared at wouldn't help her focus. So Rachel tried her best to keep her eyes on the road signs on their way to what she eventually deduced was their destination: Columbus.

Columbus was a rather general place to be going, of course, but Rachel soon discovered the more specific place Quinn was taking her – the Franklin Park Conservatory. It was the perfect morning for it. The sun shone into the greenhouses pleasantly, fluffy clouds floated across the bright blue sky, and Quinn held Rachel's hand all the way from the car to the first building before she got her phone out to take pictures, and Rachel followed suit soon afterward – though many of her own pictures included discreet shots of Quinn Fabray next to brilliant, exotic flowers.

Eventually, however, she couldn't hold in the urge to pester Quinn and bounced over to her side.

"How did you know this is one of my favorite places to go when we visit Columbus?"

Quinn smiled. "I didn't. But I thought it would be a nice, quiet place for us to spend some time together, walking through the gardens." She caressed Rachel's hair from her face as she spoke, and before Rachel could break her smile and speak, Quinn had snapped a picture of her, and peered at it with a smirk. "Mm. Perfect. Now I have your contact picture."

Rachel gasped, snatching onto her arm. "Not fair! You didn't even let me pose properly! How do I know you got my good side?"

Quinn looked her over. "All your sides are good, trust me."

A blush crept up Rachel's neck.

Quinn only smiled and went back to taking pictures. "So what is it that makes this one of your favorite places?"

"I don't know. I guess since we've been going here since I was little, it's a good memory. And I love going through all the different conservatories, the rainforest, desert, mountains – I hope to see all of it in its natural state in person someday when I'm an international star on tour in different countries."

"You like to travel?"

Rachel nodded. "I _love_ to travel. Experiencing new cultures and hearing different kinds of music, and exploring new places and all their nooks and crannies. I think it's amazing that you can find something special about every place you go. Of course, New York is and always will be my favorite, just the energy of the city gives me a rush. I plan on making it my base of operations for when I travel." She giggled.

Quinn smiled faintly, and Rachel tilted her head. She realized, belatedly, in her own opinion, that she had not been very good about learning more about Quinn. Not actively, anyway. Passively, she had learned a lot of little things from simple observation, but she hadn't actually pursued knowledge about Quinn. She supposed she just assumed that Quinn would be forthcoming, like everyone else, but Quinn was not everyone else. No, Quinn was private and careful, and she didn't offer up information on a silver platter. So it was a serious miscalculation not to ask as many questions as Quinn could stand to answer.

"What about you, Quinn?"

She raised her eyebrows, fiddling with an almost too-blue flower. "What about…me?"

"Do you like to travel?" Rachel pressed, stepping around in front of her.

"Oh. Yeah, I do."

"What do you like about it?"

Quinn hesitated. "I guess…what you said. Finding something special, no matter where you are. And there's always a story or a history behind it, it gives a place…character."

"So you like history?"

She paused again, but nodded. "Yes…but not…general history, I like finding out little things."

She started to walk again, and Rachel trotted to her side like an eager puppy, "Like what?" Off Quinn's look, she gestured. "Give me an example. A little thing about history."

"Oh…" Quinn tilted her phone from one palm to the other. "Well. This documentary I watched a while ago, had a story about Teddy Roosevelt. He was shot in the chest, and then went on to give a 90 minute speech without medical attention – and that bullet was never removed. That was seven years before he died."

Rachel was owl-eyed. "That's amazing."

Quinn smiled sheepishly. "Things like that…interest me."

She nodded quickly. "I can see why." Her eyes narrowed. "So you like documentaries?"

"I do." Her teeth dug into her pink lip. "Actually, I find them more interesting than other film genres."

Rachel hummed. "Because they're more like books. More factual. Right?"

Quinn's eyebrows rose. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, Quinn." She huffed. "You're constantly reading during glee club – and most other classes for that matter. In fact, I rarely see you without a book." When Quinn only looked at her again, Rachel tossed her hair. "What? You think I never paid attention to you before? I've always noticed you when you're around."

Quinn seemed to hesitate again, and then took Rachel's hand and kept walking, leaving a bright smile on Rachel's face.

#

After they made a last stop at the glass blowing exhibit, where Quinn bought Rachel a little emerald vase, they headed off to the Northstar Café for lunch and then to the Easton Town Center, stopping in at a few shops here and there. Rachel soon learned not to show too much interest in purchasing anything, because as soon as she picked something up, Quinn would buy it for her without pause. She wound up with a bracelet, two new tops, and a CD before she learned her lesson.

Fortunately, she did manage to convince Quinn to buy something for herself, when they were trying on things for fun in one of the more eccentric shops – feather boas and skin tight leotards seemed to be their general fare. But Quinn looked far too good in the studded black, faux-leather pilot's cap to pass up. Granted, Quinn looked far too good in anything she ever wore, but the crooked pilot's cap in particular left Rachel with that tingly feeling.

Rachel kept up her line of questioning during all this, and though Quinn seemed rather caught off-guard by it all, she answered every question evenly and honestly, so Rachel learned quite a bit about Quinn. She learned, for instance, that Quinn loved cheese and baked goods, hated kale, and preferred sandwiches to burgers. And that Quinn was a diehard fan of going to a store, looking at, touching, and experiencing a product in real life, rather than shopping online – though she appreciated online shopping for its ability to expose her to products unavailable locally. And that Quinn loved quirky independent stores that could only be found one place in the world – something special for each town – especially bookstores, and that part of the reason she loved books so much was the smell. Quinn also loved the smell of rain, fresh laundry, and strawberries, and Rachel made a mental note to keep using her strawberry shampoo and soap.

Learning all of this served two purposes. One being that Rachel was so busy learning and storing information about Quinn that she hadn't thought about Gabriel or Kurt or Mercedes or Mr. Fabray or Finn or the police following them everywhere all day long. The other was that the more she learned about Quinn Fabray, the more she knew she had made the right decision, because Quinn Fabray was wonderful, and Rachel didn't feel it in the least bit too soon to say that she was kind of falling in love.

She loved that Quinn liked special things, like Rachel did. She loved that Quinn appreciated the value of new technology, but also didn't want to lose the joy of experiencing things in reality. She loved that Quinn used all her senses when she was experiencing things. She loved that Quinn thought that burgers took the special, fresh crunchy taste out of tomatoes and lettuce, while sandwiches heightened it. She loved that Quinn even thought about those things. She loved that Quinn wanted to spoil her senseless and that she was stoic and layered and mysterious and secretly sweet and protective and everything. She loved everything about Quinn Fabray.

Especially that, though she expressed interest in seeing Chernobyl Diaries, Quinn let Rachel pick What to Expect When You're Expecting when they went to the AMC theater at the center. She even bought a bucket of unbuttered popcorn for them to share. Rachel spent the entire movie with her head on Quinn's shoulder, and for all she knew by the end, it had been about the difficulties of pregnancy for pandas – which she admittedly would have paid a lot more attention to.

After the movie ended, they walked around the shopping center again until it was time for dinner, and Quinn drove her to La Fogata Grill back in Short North, where they strolled the Arts District until they found a little 'bar' with card and board games at each table. As they played a fast game of War, Rachel couldn't help but imagine doing this in New York City. Not the card game, precisely, but exploring, finding neat little places and novelty shops and buying trinkets. She'd imagined that before, many times, but it was usually on her own, or maybe with Kurt – until he got bored and wanted to go shopping at Bloomingdale's or a club or something. Once she had imagined it with Finn. Just once, the night she met Patti LuPone.

At the moment, however, Rachel was imagining it with Quinn. Waking up to bagels and coffee Quinn had run out early to get, from Rachel's favorite café down the road, and then taking a cab to a street they had looked up on Google Maps but had never been down before. Walking up and down either side of the street, popping into stores and trying on the weirdest pairs of sunglasses or hats or shirts they could find. Quinn buying her a bracelet or a necklace, or an old playbill they found in some antique shop, or a funky little paperweight Rachel liked. Eating out in restaurants they'd never heard of, and when their feet were too sore for even another foot of sidewalk, they'd take a cab home to their top-story apartment and Quinn would insist on rubbing Rachel's feet, right before making love to her all night long.

"Rachel?"

She jumped, staring at Quinn's mouth and then the narrowed, uncertain eyes. "Huh?"

Quinn gestured down at the table. "It's your turn."

Rachel felt a blush creep up her cheeks at the same time as a happy smile refused to stop stretching her lips, and she set down her next card, a Queen of Hearts, on top of Quinn's two of diamonds and collected them both into her pile.

#

It was dark by the time they tired of their games, but rather than start home, Quinn drove south when they hopped back in the car. It was a short ride, however, short enough that Rachel didn't get a chance to ask what was next, and instead only marveled as they arrived at the old Southern Theater on Main Street. Quinn hopped out while she was still staring.

"Wait, Quinn, what are we doing here?" She slipped out to meet her, curling her arm around Quinn's, and perked up. "Is there a performance here tonight?"

Quinn shook her head, smiling that enigmatic smile. "No."

Rachel pouted. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Quinn led her around the back, rather than the glass doors in front, and knocked on a closed grey door, until a man in a janitor's jumper popped his head out.

"Quinn Fabray?" he prompted.

She nodded and held out a fistful of money to him; Rachel went wide-eyed, but said nothing.

He swiped the money and stepped back. "C'mon in."

Once again, Rachel was tugged forward, this time down a dark hallway, up some stairs, more hallway, and before she knew it they were standing out on the Victorian-era stage, staring out at rows and rows of seats and a rounded golden ceiling. Rachel couldn't help but breathe a small 'wow', and it echoed all around.

The janitor turned to them. "You got fifteen minutes."

His footsteps receded quickly, and Quinn gave Rachel's hand a squeeze, peering at her in her peripheral vision.

"I know it's not the Ohio Theater, where the actual Broadway plays are performed, and it's no Gershwin, but. It is the oldest surviving theater in Ohio. I thought you might like the experience of singing here."

Rachel kissed Quinn harder than she'd ever kissed anyone in her life, pressing herself up into the embrace the blonde offered and trying to somehow break the laws of nature and get closer than their bodies or mouths would allow. By the time she pried herself away from Quinn's Mexican spice-covered tongue, they were both breathing heavily, and Quinn's pink lips were red from swelling. Her hazel eyes were darker, and it sent another tingle through Rachel's body.

"Today," she panted, "was already perfect. One of the most wonderful days of my life, in fact. But you always seem to know how to put the icing on the cake, don't you?" She grinned, and Quinn's flush seemed to deepen. "I don't know how you managed this, and I don't even want to know. You're magic."

Rachel beamed, kissed Quinn sweetly, and turned to give My Honey's Loving Arms a whirl while Quinn smiled on.

#

Quinn turned on the specially crafted playlist on the way back home, but Rachel was so exhausted by then, she only sang a couple of songs – softly, since she'd been belting not too long ago – and promptly fell asleep against the window. Before she knew it, Quinn was gently shaking her awake, coaxing her with kisses to her temple, and half-carrying her out of the car.

It was only when Quinn noted, "Looks like someone's here" that Rachel woke herself up a bit more, glancing to find the squad car had pulled up behind them, but another car sat by the curb. She recognized it almost instantly, and her stomach dropped as she hurried her feet into the house, Quinn only a step behind her, and stared at Blaine sitting on the couch with Judy, cupping a mug of something steaming.

"Did something happen? Is Kurt okay? He's not – "

Blaine stood, setting the mug on the coffee table. "No. He's fine. Well…" He trailed off, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Still, Rachel was flooded with relief, enough to turn and slide her shoes off next to Quinn's before she walked further into the living room, smiling briefly at Judy. She felt Quinn step up behind her and leaned back against her chest.

"So what's going on?"

Blaine sighed. "Well. He called me into his room this morning and asked about the funerals. I…told him Mercedes' was on Friday and his dad's is tomorrow, and he kicked me back out. The doctor went in for a while and then he called me back in and asked me to come get you."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, he wouldn't tell me, just said he needed to talk to you."

"So you've been waiting here all day?" She grimaced.

"No, I stopped by after that, but no one was home. I just got here a little bit ago to see if anyone was home and Mrs. Fa – er, Ms. Lester was kind enough ask me to wait."

"You can call me Judy, dear." She stood and collected their mugs. "I'll go see about getting everyone some drinks."

Quinn squeezed Rachel's shoulders and gestured for Blaine to sit back down, easing herself into an armchair. As Blaine lowered himself to the couch, holding his head, Rachel perched herself on the arm of Quinn's chair and frowned down at him.

"I really thought we were doing the right thing," he muttered.

"We all did," Rachel soothed. "Blaine, this was our decision. You, me, Mrs. Hummel, Finn. We all made this choice. Don't take it on yourself."

"We-we just got married." He twisted the silver band on his finger, sniffling. "And he won't even look at me now. I…I held him together while he bled to death, I…I've got to go. Tell…tell Judy I'm sorry."

With that, before Rachel could even begin to protest, he was out the door. Quinn's arm pulled around her waist, and she tumbled into her lap, meeting intent hazel eyes.

"Do you want to go after him?"

Rachel shook her head slowly. "There's nothing I can do but go see Kurt."

Quinn's grasp on her started to shift, and Rachel buried a hand in her hair, the other holding her arm around her waist.

"Tomorrow. It's still today. And today is about us."

Rachel smiled as Quinn favored her with a gentle kiss.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

They woke early the next morning to dress and prepare for the funeral, leaving enough time to head to the hospital first, and as she showered and applied makeup and dressed, Rachel couldn't help but think about the day before, and how much she'd needed it. She tried to be curious about what Kurt wanted, of course, after he had so brutally kicked her out, but her mind always wandered back to Quinn and the relief their adventurous day had offered.

Rachel had felt safe and warm and comfortable whenever she was with Quinn, but she had still been under constant outside stresses that seemed to build every time she turned around. First the entire hellish nightmare that was Kurt and Blaine's reception, then finding out about Mercedes and Mr. Hummel, then facing Finn after she cheated on him – again, then Mr. Fabray showing up, then Quinn's heroic deeds being flashed all over the news, and the list seemed to go on and on. Her life had turned into a turntable of traumatic events for the past week, and Quinn put a pin in it for a day. For a day, Quinn helped her breathe, and Rachel felt so much better for it.

Though she was still concerned over Kurt and most definitely over Quinn and the Gabriel situation, Rachel felt ready to deal with it, unlike the day before, when she just wanted to crumple up and cry all day. Now she could get dressed in a nice black dress and eat another magnificent Quinn Fabray breakfast – blueberry oatmeal waffles and a bowl of Indian cream of wheat – and hum on the drive to the hospital with all the calm and confidence she usually possessed. Because whatever happened, she and Quinn could deal with it. They had each other to face the world with now.

Rachel couldn't help but smile dreamily up at Quinn at the thought while they rode up the floors in the big hospital elevator, hugging her arm to her chest. Quinn glanced at her, once, then again. Her cheeks started to go pink.

"What?"

"What what?" Rachel echoed, grinning.

Quinn cleared her throat. "Do I have something on my face, or something?"

"Mm-mm. I just like looking at you." She kissed Quinn's shoulder, and those cheeks went even pinker.

She was chewing on her bottom lip when she spoke again. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

Rachel hummed in thought, sobering for the moment. "I do. But I doubt Kurt meant for both of us to come in."

Quinn nodded. "I'll wait just outside then."

"Thank you." She nuzzled Quinn's shoulder, smiling to herself as the cheeks turned a little red.

Sadly, the elevator doors opened before Rachel could offer any other incentive for Quinn to blush, and once they arrived at Kurt's door, Quinn squeezed her hand and let go, nodding encouragingly. Rachel braced herself with a full breath, straightened her spine, and stepped in, peering around the door at Kurt. He looked even paler than usual, she noted with a frown, as he stared scowling out his window, clutching papers in his hands.

"Kurt?" she called softly, shutting the door behind her as he looked over. "Blaine said you wanted to see me…"

He just looked at her for a moment – almost indirectly, not quite finding her eyes. "I did."

Rachel approached his bed then, taking slow steps. She opened her mouth to ask – was everything okay. And shut it when she realized what a stupid question that would be. Of course everything wasn't okay. His best friend, other than her, and his dad were dead. Everything was awful.

"They're not letting me leave the hospital. Not even for the funeral," Kurt said at last, shifting the papers in his hands before lifting them toward her. "So I want you to read this for me."

Rachel raised both eyebrows. "You want…me to…?"

"Blaine won't go. He won't leave, or be there without me. So I need you to do it."

She took the papers, turning them in her hands. "Okay."

Kurt sighed. "Okay."

She hesitated. "Kurt…I know you're angry with me right now, with all of us. You're my best friend. I love you." Her breath seemed to stall as her eyes burned, and she gathered herself again. "So you have to know that…I thought I was doing the right thing for you. We all did. If it was a mistake, then I'm sorry. You know, I'm not perfect." She sniffed, trying to smile, but he just kept staring ahead. "It was so hard to know what to do with this whole situation, even before those gunmen showed up. The death threats…it was hard to know whether to take them seriously. People fighting for their equal rights have faced them so many times. Women, for suffrage, African Americans, _and_ gays. They seem so brave because they pushed on anyway, but I guess…sometimes it doesn't turn out so well. I mean, Martin Luther King spent almost two weeks in jail, and that was before he was assassinated, and – "

"And my father and my best friend died," Kurt cut in, spitting the words. "And you're trying to make that something beautiful or meaningful, like it's all part of an artist's struggle. What next? Barbra Streisand would buckle up and carry on?"

Rachel bit on her bottom lip. "Actually, she _has_ received many threats in her time and – "

"You don't get it, do you? You didn't lose anyone who's important to you, you – "

"I loved Mercedes just the same as you, Kurt!"

"You aren't the reason she died!"

She sighed, taking a step back, breathing. "And neither are you. Gabriel and his followers are the only ones responsible for what happened that night."

He wiped his cheeks. "So I didn't have a choice? I could've gotten married to Blaine in New York, like you and everyone else suggested. We could've forgotten all about a guest list and just done it for us, but – "

"Okay, don't try and take responsibility for what your guests decided to do. We knew about the death threats. We knew the risk. We chose to come and support you and Blaine, and everything that your wedding stood for. The only thing that you are responsible for is the choice to get married. And you should've been able to decide that without all this risk and death. In a perfect world, you would've been able to. Don't blame yourself for an imperfect world, Kurt," she begged quietly, taking his hand.

He snuffed. "Can you just go? Please?"

The hope drained from her expression. Just as before the wedding, when Kurt wouldn't be swayed to hold the wedding anywhere else, now he wouldn't be swayed to believe himself anything but guilty. It didn't matter what Rachel said, she could see it in his eyes, in the way he held his jaw tight together. He wasn't hearing her. He had decided, and that was that.

Rachel sighed, drawing her hand away. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Kurt said nothing, and Rachel folded up the papers in her hands before returning to Quinn, waiting just outside the door with the cop, exactly where Rachel had left her.

#

Two funerals in two weeks was two too many. But there wasn't much of a choice in it. Rachel wouldn't have missed Mercedes' funeral for anything, and though she could have missed Mr. Hummel's more easily, now she had a duty to fulfill, a duty to Kurt. Quinn accompanied her to the front of the church where Mrs. Hummel and the priest were talking to inform them of Kurt's request, and after settling it that she would go last before the service was concluded, the two of them found a seat in one of the front pews, across from where Finn and Mrs. Hummel and family were sitting.

Finn, once again, was staring at Rachel as soon as she sat. It wasn't an unusual feeling, being watched by Finn. Whenever it struck him that he loved her or she was beautiful when they were together – or not – she would get a tingling feeling on the back of her neck and look at him, and he would be gazing at her in amazement. Whether or not that amazement was accompanied by a pout depended entirely upon whether they were together at the time. Either way, it made Rachel feel like the most special girl in the world to amaze Finn Hudson.

But that was then. Now the staring was…uncomfortable. Rather than a tingle at the back of her neck alerting her, it was an unpleasant trail up her spine that made her shift closer to Quinn and grab one of her hands into her lap. It almost felt unfair, Rachel reflected, to change on Finn like this, to decide that his amazement and his love weren't what she wanted anymore, didn't make her feel special anymore.

It wasn't a decision, though, she reminded herself. It was how she felt. Maybe it was because the specialness came from the fact that he was the only boy, save for Jesse St. James or Jacob Ben Israel, who looked at her seriously, who wanted and loved her. It fed into her clinging, into her agreement to marry him, thinking that he was the only one in the world who could put up with her the way he did. Well, besides Kurt. But he was gay, and no.

Now Rachel had Quinn. Quinn looked at her like she was something precious, something perfect. She was considerate and kind and the mere fact of having Quinn Fabray's affection made Rachel feel special. And she no longer feared that no one else would want her because, well, Finn still did, but also because she didn't want anyone else. It was kind of strange feeling to Rachel, actually. Foreign. Wanting for nothing.

She liked it.

Rachel leaned herself into Quinn's side, smiling as a pale arm pulled from between them to wrap around her shoulders, and she knew it was wrong to be so happy, so content at a funeral – at the funeral of a man she respected and liked – but she couldn't help herself. Quinn made her happy. And there was nothing wrong with that.

Still, once the service started, Rachel sobered herself appropriately and listened as the priest began, "Friends, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a great man. A pillar of this community, of this church, for many years, Burt Hummel was, above all things, a father. A father who died in the greatest service of all – love. Love for his son; see, Burt knew God's truth: that love in any form is pure and good, and that is what he chose to stand for, against God's enemies, and those who would, in ignorance, oppose that truth. But Burt wasn't just a father. He was a respected mechanic. The only one in town who could be trusted."

The priest smiled to little chuckles throughout the church. "And he was a kind stepfather, who supported his stepson's love as ardently as he did his own son's."

Rachel glanced over, finding Finn's head bowed. A twinge of sympathy twisted her heart before she looked back up to the priest.

"And he was a husband, and Mrs. Carole Hudson-Hummel would like to speak to you about that today. Carole."

Mrs. Hummel squeezed Finn's hand before she stood and made her way up to the podium, sniffing softly as she looked out on all of them. "Most of you know, Burt and I were only married about a year and a half ago. But it was…one of the happiest years and a half in my life. Burt was the kindest and gentlest man I ever met, and we met…at our sons' PTA night. It was an instant attraction. We were both just two souls going about our business…and we found something we really needed in each other. Something we didn't even know we needed. A partner, a friend. It was something we had both lost before and we were able to be that for each other, and I will always be grateful for that. For Burt. He stepped into my life and he changed it completely. He became the role model my pride and joy, my son, Finn needed. He filled a gap in our lives, and I can only hope…that I did even a fraction…of what he did for us, for Burt and his son." She sniffed, bringing a tissue to her nose for a moment, and Rachel nuzzled her cheek against Quinn's shoulder, feeling her squeeze back. "I can't…there's so much more I'd like to say. So much more there is to say about Burt. But I guess…what I want everyone to know most, is that Burt's heart was as big as the universe. And I will always love him."

She stepped down then, making it to Finn's waiting arms and the pew before she broke down into sobs, and Rachel frowned up at Quinn until she received a kiss on the forehead. The priest waved to Rachel to come up, and she leaned into Quinn one more time before she stood, unfolding the papers Kurt had given her as she went, smoothing them out on the flat wood of the podium.

Rachel cleared her throat, looking to Quinn's encouraging face before she addressed the church. The audience. That felt better. "Kurt was unable to be here today, as some of you may know, his wounds were reopened by the very man who caused them, and it wasn't safe for him to travel. So he asked me to read this for him, in honor of his father."

She ran the heel of her hand over the pages one more time before she focused and began, "'My father was the best man in the world. He was kind, and he was patient, and he knew everything. Proof? When I finally told him I was gay, at the sensitive age of sixteen years old, he said to me, "I know." He'd known since I was a little boy. And he hugged me, and from then on, he stood up for my right to be who I was, no questions asked. He always knew the right thing to do, and if I had been…'" Rachel hesitated. "'If I had been smart at all, I would've listened to him when he told me I deserved to get married, I deserved to be happy, but I should wait. Instead, I did what I wanted, and I…killed him.'"

Rachel stopped as a few gasps sounded in the room, glancing over at Quinn uncertainly. She nodded, pursing her lips, and Rachel took a breath.

"'I take full responsibility for the events…of May 21st and the hours afterward. I take responsibility for the eleven deaths, including my father's and my best…friend's…'" Rachel bit her lip, lifting up the page to glance over the next few paragraphs. "I'm sorry. I can't read this. It's crap." Another few gasps, and Rachel crumpled up the pages in her hands. "Kurt loves his father, and he loves Mercedes, and he's a grieving boy looking for someone to blame for their deaths. He's decided that he's to blame, just like everyone else who went through this tragedy. I know I did. I thought, well, maybe I should've pushed Kurt harder to postpone. You know what? Maybe we should've all walked around wearing bulletproof vests, too; maybe-maybe we should've bought guns and pepper spray and turned that reception into an arsenal to ward off attacks. Maybe, maybe, maybe."

She paused, biting her lip. Another glance to Quinn. She nodded again, encouraging.

"The point is…we're not to blame. I'm not to blame. Kurt's not to blame. We all could've done something different, yes. Kurt could've postponed, he could've just not gotten married. And then the next gay couple who wanted to get married in Lima, or in Ohio, or in the United States could just back down, too. And the next, and the next. But they are not the ones in the wrong. Gabriel and his followers are the ones who chose to murder, they are the ones who chose to cause pain. _They_ are the ones to blame. Not the victims. Kurt is no more to blame for loving his husband than a woman is for walking down the street in a mini-skirt." She shook her head. "We have to stop this. So I'm sorry, I wanted to read this, I wanted to do this for Kurt. But I guess all I can say is that Kurt loves his father, and for good reason. He was a good, _good_ man. Someone we could all take a lesson from."

Rachel picked up the pages and descended the steps, taking her place next to Quinn again. She smiled a little as she received a firm kiss on her temple and rested fully against Quinn's side.

#

Rachel's fathers had taken the day off to attend the funeral, and afterward swept Quinn and Rachel up for lunch out at Olive Garden, for a change of pace from Breadstix. They spent most of the first twenty minutes apologizing to Quinn for the footage that had put her in danger, admonishing themselves for not saving all their gratitude for a less public place. Quinn only smiled and waved them off until they dropped it.

And they promptly spent the rest of the time grilling the two of them about their day in Columbus, until the waiter was starting to visit the table a bit too often, and they all went off home to change. Quinn had promised to bring Rachel around to the Berry house, both for more clothes and so she could spent more time with her fathers, and of course they wound up sitting around playing Dance Dance Revolution – which Quinn was spectacular at, if Rachel did say so herself – and Rock Band 2 until even the Berrys were too tired to keep going at such active games and switched instead to board games. They ordered Chinese around dinner time, and Dad insisted on inviting Judy over for all the fun.

So it was that the whole family, all the Berrys and Quinn and Judy, wasted away an evening with board games, Chinese takeout, and lots of laughter and idle chitchat. Judy and Rachel's fathers got along famously, and Dad and Judy actually made quite an amazing Charades team – though not quite as good as Quinn and Rachel. Dad ended up insisting that the two switch up partners after all the adult team mix-ups were soundly beaten by them, and Rachel marveled at how she could be so happy, and after such a day and such a tragedy.

Rachel supposed it was partly the prospect of those glimmers of a future with Quinn being confirmed by the way they all got along. She could see Thanksgivings, Christmases, passing by with the five of them all gathered around a coffee table with wine and tacky sweaters, snacking on warm Challah bread and coaxing Judy and Quinn into karaoke or caroling, and then in the late evening, curling up in bed, just Quinn and Rachel. Watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving or Christmas, or the claymation classics, and exchanging private gifts and long, lazy kisses.

Maybe it was too soon to be thinking of the future this way. But Rachel couldn't help it.

"That was fun," she hummed later, as she snuggled into Quinn's pillow and the blonde kneaded her back, sore from sitting without support for most of the day. "Don't you think?"

"Very."

Rachel giggled. "Your monotone is very convincing, Quinn."

Her amusement was replaced with a groan as Quinn's thumb dug into a knot, and she wriggled a little bit.

"It was fun," Quinn affirmed. "I'm just concentrating."

"Such serious business, massaging your girlfriend's back, hm?" She bit her lip, pausing, the mock-grouchy face she'd been making dropping as she awaited Quinn's reaction.

"As a matter of fact, it is, girlfriend," she drawled, and her fingers rubbed into the little knit as though nothing unusual was happening. Rachel smiled. "Can't have you stiff and achy, can I?"

"Hm, I guess not." She grinned into the pillow, closing her eyes. "Quinn?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think we can have more days like yesterday?"

"We can have as many as you want."

"I mean…" Rachel shifted slightly, wanting to look at her but – those hands were too good to lose. "In the fall. I want to set aside days like that. Just us days. You can come down to New York or I'll come up and we can explore our cities together."

Quinn didn't say anything at first, and Rachel badly wanted to roll over, to get a look at her.

"If that's what you want," she murmured.

Rachel nodded into the pillow, pausing. "It is. I like spending time with you."

Quinn was silent again, for a moment. "I like it, too."

She smiled to herself and this time didn't resist the urge to roll onto her back, looking up at Quinn admiringly. Quinn looked back at her with those sparkling eyes, and Rachel reached up to touch the soft hair framing her beautiful face, lightly running her thumb down the little cleft of her chin. She closed her eyes briefly as Quinn returned the gesture, caressing her cheek.

"Quinn?"

Her eyebrow rose minutely. "Mm?"

"Do you ever think about letting your hair grow out again?"

Instantly, Quinn was grinning at her, and Rachel couldn't help but giggle.

"Sometimes," she allowed, adjusting to lie down alongside Rachel, propped up on her elbow. "Why, you don't like it short?"

She shook her head. "On the contrary, I think you look beautiful with it. But that's hardly unusual." She lifted her hand up to pet through the silky locks, humming. "Although I do appreciate that you can't hide with your shorter hair…you also look gorgeous when it's long. Honestly, it doesn't matter what you do with it, and I don't really care. You looked good when it was a pink mess." She smiled. "I was only wondering."

"Well, I kind of like it this length," Quinn answered, scooting herself up a bit and lightly tracing Rachel's jaw. "Not a lot of maintenance, but I can still put it up if I want to."

Rachel nodded, internalizing, and smiled brightly. "Do you like my hair?"

Quinn flashed a grin again, chuckling. "Yes."

She beamed. "Good."

Quinn leaned down enough to grace Rachel's lips with a touch of a kiss, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'cutie.'

"What was that?"

She shook her head, smiling mysteriously. "Nothing."

"Uh huh."

Rachel twisted her lips into something resembling a smirk – she admitted she wasn't very good at it – and it worked just perfectly in luring Quinn back for more lovely kisses. She would have to keep that in mind.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Quinn woke the next day to find her phone exploding with notifications from Facebook, all messages from Santana asking for her number, since she'd finally gotten herself a new phone. Well, less asking and more demanding. According to Santana's many, many messages, it was important that Quinn have her number on her phone, especially now that she was probably going to get kidnapped and murdered by Gabriel, and someone from Lima Heights was good backup. Quinn added her number to her phone and immediately texted her to shut up.

It didn't take long for Santana to start barraging her with texts instead, demanding now that Quinn come over for the day for an Unholy Trinity pool party. Brittany was worried about her, evidently, and wanted to spend some time. It was that more than anything, even the desire to shut Santana up, that convinced Quinn to ask Rachel when she woke for breakfast if she would mind spending some time with the two of them.

"Of course not. They're your friends," was the reply.

Quinn couldn't help a spark of guilt at that, since she wasn't sure she would willingly spend time with Kurt at the moment if someone handed her a million dollars, but she only smiled and kissed Rachel's temple and went to get around for a day lounging around the pool. On the drive to Santana's house, Rachel took up questioning her again – this time about her friendships with Santana and Brittany.

"How did you all become friends?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know, it just sort of happened. I got head cheerleader when I tried out and Santana was a close second, so we kind of fell into it, I guess. Mostly through mocking our underlings."

"What about Brittany?"

"Santana and Brittany were already friends when I met them. She just tagged along everywhere, so."

"So Santana was like your lieutenant."

"You could say that. A resentful, unwilling lieutenant who would rather have been on top. But you know the saying. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer."

"But you _are_ friends?"

"Now we are. When we're not on the Cheerios, we are. It's hard to compete over something you don't have."

"Don't tell her I said this, but you were always the best head cheerleader."

Quinn shot a smile Rachel's way, receiving a beam in return.

#

When they arrived at Santana's house, it was to a massive groan from the Latina.

"I didn't know you were going to bring _her_."

Quinn shrugged. "Get over it."

And that was that. Santana pouted, folded her arms, but Brittany suggested they all go get in their bathing suits and that pout disappeared awfully fast, to be replaced by a roguish grin, and the two of them sped up the stairs like a couple of, well, horny teenagers. Rachel was blushing bright red, Quinn found, but she simply ushered Rachel out back by the pool and stripped down to her red bikini, lathering on sunscreen as she eyed Rachel doing the same in a black one-piece. She didn't get long to enjoy the view, however, as Rachel started with the questions – again.

"Have they always been like that?"

"Almost," Quinn confirmed, bending to rub her ankles. "They were always all over each other, but they weren't so blatant until they'd been sleeping together for a while."

"When did…?" Rachel trailed off with a blush, approaching Quinn where she sat on one of the white lounge chairs.

"I'm not sure." She shook her head. "I think it started with threesomes and they just kind of worked their way from there."

Rachel's head swayed back and forth, bemused. "How are you friends with them?"

Quinn straightened, snapping the cap on the sunscreen and peering up at Rachel. "How do you mean?"

"Well, they're…and you're…"

Quinn narrowed her eyes, and Rachel puffed a breath.

"They're upstairs doing it after inviting over guests and you only ever had sex because you were drunk!"

She couldn't help it. She smirked. "Oh. So you think that prudes can't be friends with sluts, hm?"

Rachel stammered instantly. "I never said you were a prude. Or that they were sluts! I just…well, it just…seems like you don't have very much in common. I mean, most of my friends that I actually have made, well. Kurt and Mercedes and I all-all love singing and we're all divas. You and Santana and Brittany, you're all cheerleaders, but… I mean, Santana's the most abrasive person I know, with the biggest potty mouth. Brittany's…Brittany. She's sweet, but very odd – not that I'm one to talk, but you know what I mean. And you, you are the opposite of them. You're quiet and reserved, and you're Ivy League smart, and… I'm not trying to judge your friendships, I'm just saying. It's unique, and I don't really get it. Not that I have to, of course, I think it's lovely and I'm happy you have friends. Not that you wouldn't have friends!" She deflated, lower lip poking out. "This isn't coming out right and you aren't saving me."

Quinn smiled and stood, brushing Rachel's hair from her face. "We're not as different as we seem. Santana and I, we're both bitches – "

She was shaking her head vehemently. "Don't say that, Quinn, you're not that at all."

"Well, we both can be, then," she amended. "We both lash out when we're hurt or upset. We both like to be in control." Rachel blushed, and Quinn tried not to linger on that. "We both…angst over the idea of being gay. And over girls who were already with guys. And we both have a very dry wit. We are both very, _extremely_ hot." She grinned.

Rachel's cheeks burned bright red, but she prompted, "And you and Brittany?"

Quinn pretended to consider that. "We both like cats."

Rachel burst into laughter, much to Quinn's delight, and she grabbed her into a warm hug, kissing her hair until they were interrupted by Santana and Brittany's disheveled reappearance.

"Thank God, we caught you in time. Rule number one, there's no sex with midgets in or around my pool," Santana breathed, while Brittany cannonballed in.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You know, Santana, I'm really excited to see if your implants float."

"You would be." Santana narrowed her eyes. "Your abs are shriveling up."

"Santana!" Brittany whined, and she shot them one more glare before diving in.

"Your abs are not shriveling up," Rachel scoffed immediately, leaning up shyly after a moment. "Your abs are sexy."

"You are," Quinn growled playfully, dipping to kiss her hotly.

Rachel held her face, giggling happily into her mouth as Quinn teased her sides with the tickling tips of her fingers, and it was just about the hardest thing Quinn had ever had to do to resist running her hands all over that soft skin and then breaking Santana's number one rule.

"Did you come here to swim, or exchange saliva?" Santana called, and Quinn sighed, retracting her tongue reluctantly. "Just so you know, hers is probably poisonous. She is a leprechaun, so."

Quinn shook her head. "That's basilisks, genius. So when I start dating a giant snake, you can start worrying about me."

"If you start dating a giant snake, poisonous spit is going to be like third on my list of worries about you."

She couldn't help but flash a grin, and Rachel even giggled, before whispering up to her, "Race you to the pool," and darting off.

#

They spent most of the day wandering between the pool and the kitchen – playing games of Marco Polo (which Rachel was amazingly good at), duck push (to entertain Brittany, and at which she was the best), and a couple of hoops and net games (which of course, Santana and Quinn excelled with); munching on BLTs, pretzels, and yogurt and chugging down pink lemonade between. They only headed home after Santana's parents returned from work, looking a bit too exhausted to deal with four giggling girls.

All in all, Quinn thought it had been a successful day. Santana's usual barbs aside, her two best friends and Rachel got along just fine, partly due to the fact, she was sure, that they had spent three years getting used to Rachel, and she to them. Partly because Rachel was naturally unruffled and endlessly, sometimes frustratingly kind. Partly perhaps because they all chose to behave for Quinn's benefit. And even Santana's insults wore off toward the end of the day, not ceasing entirely, but coming at less regular intervals. So Quinn could consider it a success, of sorts.

After dinner with her mom, she and Rachel piled upstairs to relax in pajamas and watch movies. Quinn sat on the floor in front of the bed, her laptop up on her desk so that Rachel could play with and braid her hair at her leisure. And in the middle of Carousel, Rachel started questioning – again.

"Quinn?"

"Mm?"

"Earlier you said something, about you and Santana. And it occurs to me I've been really remiss in not asking more about your feelings for me."

Quinn fiddled with the strings on her pajama pants. "What's there to ask? You know how I feel about you."

Rachel paused. "Yes, but. You said you and Santana…angsted over girls who were with guys, and it occurred to me that Santana was doing that last year when Brittany was with Artie, which made me realize I don't even know how long you've had these feelings for me."

She blew out a soft breath. "Does that matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know," Rachel said impishly, kissing the top of Quinn's head.

She pursed her lips. "Always."

Rachel hesitated. "Always?"

"I've always had feelings for you."

She felt Rachel's hands lower from her hair down to her neck and shoulders, rubbing gently, and stared ahead at Shirley Jones on screen.

"You never said anything," she murmured mournfully in her ear.

"Well, I didn't exactly handle it well, did I?"

Rachel's sweet lips touched to the shell of her ear a few times, and Quinn closed her eyes.

"I think…I've always felt something for you, too," she said slowly.

Quinn scoffed. "You don't…have to try and make me feel better, I'm fine. I've made peace with it."

"I'm not." Rachel nuzzled her lightly. "Honestly, Quinn, you'd think I was with you out of pity, the way you make it sound. But I'm being serious. I didn't always _know_ I felt something for you, but. It was definitely more than the mere admiration I made it out to be."

Quinn tilted her head back to meet Rachel's eyes, looking at her smile and her plump lips. They shared a soft, brief kiss, and Rachel's smile widened.

"Now turn back around, I'm almost done with your braid."

Quinn couldn't help a small chuckle, but obeyed, only lightly shaking her head.

#

On Saturday, they went for a walk at Schoonover Park and Rachel's questions this time tended toward Quinn's views toward nature.

"Do you like the outdoors, Quinn?"

"I do." She nodded, swinging their hands lightly between them.

"I thought you might." She smiled proudly. "I've never seen you using the school treadmills, except when Coach Sylvester was making you all run your legs off. You always seem to use the track around the football field, or you're out somewhere in the neighborhood. Not that you're usually in my area that I've noticed, but sometimes I'd see you around."

"Well, I don't like running on something stationary, I like a change of scenery. Otherwise, I just get bored, think too much," Quinn explained, shrugging her shoulders.

"It's different for me, I guess." At Quinn's expectant look, Rachel continued happily, "I put up a symbol of my goal in front of me when I use my elliptical, so it's more like I'm moving toward something than just running in place."

"Clever," Quinn commented.

Rachel beamed. "Thank you. It occurs to me that I've never asked, but I should've, you know, because you're so very – " she took a deep breath, seeming to eye Quinn's body " – athletic, but what sports do you partake in? Aside from cheerleading and water volleyball and water basketball," she giggled.

"Well, regular basketball and volleyball, for one. My family used to go skiing for Christmas vacation, and my sister and I took horseback riding lessons when we lived in Georgia. Sometimes Santana and I play a little soccer." She shrugged.

Rachel nodded and then prodded, "Why haven't you ever joined one of the teams at school? I'm sure you're fabulous at it all."

"Cheerleaders and basketball girls and soccer girls…we all run in different circles."

She frowned. "But the boys do football and basketball and everything."

"It's different for boys. They're supposed to be into all the sports, and they all blend together. Cheerleading isn't a sport to most people, it's the thing you join if you're girly, not tomboyish or…"

"A lesbian," Rachel finished, and Quinn nodded reluctantly. "Well, I think that's ridiculous. Cheerleading is one of the most dangerous and demanding sports there are. You not only have to be a gymnast, you have to be a choreographer, a dancer, a safety expert. Not to mention how you have to take care of yourselves in all the seasons and often in such skimpy outfits – which I understand is for flexibility during performances, but still." She paused. "Speaking of seasons, which one's your favorite? Not to sway you, but mine is spring." She grinned.

Quinn bit down on her bottom lip hard to keep from bursting into laughter. "Fall. I like the colors."

"Mm, too breezy for me, but I see your point. Oh, especially New York in the fall. I bet you can smell the pumpkin and ginger and the leaves everywhere you go."

Quinn pulled Rachel to a stop for a warm kiss, and though she melted into it with delight, Rachel still prompted as they drew away, "What was that for?"

Quinn just smiled, took her hand, and kept walking down the path.

#

Sunday brought church again, and her dad's first appearance since their last argument. But this time, he asked who would like to go, and her mother took the offer. Quinn answered with an unequivocal no, and she and Rachel went for a bike ride instead – Rachel borrowed her mom's from their shed – to Winona Lake and Tennis Club, where Quinn and her mother had a membership.

Early Sunday mornings were the best time to go. Everyone was still at church, so the place was abandoned, and Quinn and Rachel stripped to their bikinis again and dove in for a morning of splash wars and watery kisses, until they were too cold to take it. They went to Lima Bean to warm up with donuts and hot chocolate – receiving a few odd looks for the request – and Rachel proceeded with more questions.

"You said your family used to go skiing at Christmas. What about now? Do you vacation at all?"

"Mm-mm. This year and last, my mom and I just spent the holidays at home. Baked a lot."

"Which is good, because you like baked goods." Rachel was proud of herself again, smiling.

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah."

"What's your favorite part about Christmas? Besides the baked goods."

She considered that. "The lights."

Rachel smiled, leaning on her hand. "They are beautiful. Everything all lit up like stars because it's so dark. Mine's – "

"Watching White Christmas," Quinn finished, and Rachel brightened even more.

"Did you just guess that because I'm predictable or did you know that for a more sinister reason?" she teased.

Quinn smirked. "A little of both." She winked. "You mentioned it once, I don't remember when.

Rachel stared back contentedly. "But you remember me mentioning it."

A nod. "I do."

"What else do you remember me mentioning?"

She shook her head. "A lot of things."

"Like…?" She waved her hand.

"Like…you and your dads usually spend at least one day for Christmas break at the soup kitchen. And you love doing it because homeless people are fans, too."

Rachel grinned and leaned across the table for a kiss.

#

By the time they biked home, her mom and dad were back from church, sitting over empty plates together. Quinn and Rachel took their portions to the living room, and for a while, the questions stopped while they ate and Rachel watched programs on ABC Family, a rerun of the season finale of Once Upon a Time, and Quinn did the newspaper puzzles. Her dad poked his head in about the time Emma climbed out of an elevator and started freeing Regina from duct tape.

"Quinn, I'm heading back to Colorado for a couple of days. I'll be back soon."

"Why?"

He straightened. "I have a couple of work things to take care of in person, but – "

"That's not what I meant." She completed the sixes for her Sudoku puzzle.

"I'm not leaving you until we know this Gabriel is gone for good," he answered at length. "Good night, girls."

Quinn said nothing, processing, but Rachel chirped, surprised, "Good night, Mr. Fabray."

After the front door shut, her mother stopped in to say good night as well, and Rachel snuggled up to Quinn's side.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded, kissing Rachel's temple. "Fiddle dee dee," she hummed playfully.

Rachel grinned. "My line."

"Sorry, Scarlett," she drawled, and Rachel looped her arms around Quinn's waist comfortably.

#

Monday was a dreary, rainy day, leaving Quinn unable to complete her workout. At least until Rachel begged her to take her to the gym and show her just how to use some of the equipment and how she kept her body in such good shape. Again, an admiring look was cast with those words.

Quinn couldn't resist Rachel's pout, so they went off with their police escort, as usual, and she spent the morning adjusting Rachel's body to the proper positions and helping her perform stretches and lift weights and generally trying to focus on teaching Rachel correctly rather than getting turned on. It was a struggle, particularly when she suspected Rachel noticed Quinn's eyes on her legs, and suddenly wanted to do thigh work. A lot of thigh work.

Thankfully, Rachel tired out a lot sooner than Quinn did and spent the rest of the time watching her from the sidelines instead. Well, it seemed fortunate at the time, but once Quinn noticed Rachel licking her lips and squirming, it became far less fortunate, and Quinn cut her workout short. They intended, or at least Quinn did, on taking showers when they arrived home, but somehow they wound up rolling around in bed, kissing endlessly as they pressed hands beneath shirts, gripping at bare skin, and vigorously grinding hips together.

It was only when Rachel wound up on top of Quinn that they stopped, panting and staring at each other, while Quinn stroked Rachel's sides down to her hips, and Rachel grimaced and admitted with a whine, "I'm sore."

They promptly fell into giggles, holding onto each other for a few moments more before Quinn sent Rachel off to the shower while she retrieved ice packs. She gave Rachel another massage after she had taken her own shower and they popped in another movie until her mom arrived home with pizza for dinner.

It was all pleasant as usual, dining and chatting with her mom before they retreated to the living room to put on the TV while Quinn did puzzles and her mother finished off her work and a book, and Rachel watched whatever was on. But there was something off about her mom. Her phone buzzed a few times throughout the evening, and when it did, she wore a perplexed look, brow furrowed, almost agitated.

On one such occasion, Quinn spoke up to ask, "Is everything okay, Mom?"

She nodded and smiled, a pinched edge to it. "Just a very…enthusiastic client, nothing to worry about."

Quinn nodded then and put it out of her mind. Her mother worked now as an event planner, and now and then she would end up dealing with difficult clients who wanted her attention on their project at all times. It was far and few between, but she had dealt with it before, so Quinn forgot about it and went on with snuggling up with Rachel and her crossword puzzle.

#

It rained even harder on Tuesday, and Quinn spent most of the morning staring out the window while Rachel gave her an amateur manicure, resting back against her chest and between her legs. And eventually, took up questioning her. Again.

"You said you liked the smell of rain, do you not like it otherwise?" She blew on Quinn's fingernails.

She picked up her head from the glass and sighed. "I do. I prefer it when it storms, though."

She felt Rachel grimace and chuckled to herself as she groaned, "Why?"

"I like the thunder."

"I hate it, oh. It always makes my stomach jump, like it's going to leap right out of my body." She shook her head in distaste and picked up Quinn's other hand.

Quinn stretched her fingers out for her, watching as Rachel carefully applied the file. "Can I ask _you_ something?"

Her tone was instantly chipper again. "Of course. You can ask me anything."

"Why all the questions? You've been nonstop asking me things for almost a week now."

Rachel leaned her head back, smiling up at her. "Mind if I ask one more thing before I answer you?"

Quinn sniffed, amused. "Go ahead."

"Would you have told me any of it if I hadn't asked?"

Quinn hesitated. "Probably not."

Rachel smiled. "I want to know you, Quinn. Everything about you. And the only way to get it all out of you, private, closed up, non-communicative you, is to simply ask."

She nodded slowly, conceding the point, and leaned for a kiss. Her phone buzzed, interrupting, and she sighed, picking it up with the hand Rachel had just gotten started on.

"Santana," she explained. "Puck's being released tomorrow."

"Well, we ought to be there then," Rachel affirmed, leaning up to kiss Quinn's cheek.

She tapped out a response and kissed Rachel's temple in turn, setting her phone down and stretching her fingers back out. "Now get back to work."

Rachel giggled. "Yes, ma'am."

#

The rain had dropped off by the next evening, when Puck's release was scheduled, leaving the parking lots and the grass wet and slippery. Her mom drove separately from work, and Shelby and Beth were there to see Puck off as well. Beth ran to Quinn for a hug, as usual, before they all went into the room and Beth gave him another personally crafted Get Well Soon card, only this one was So Happy You're Leaving the Hospital.

Puck looked much better than the last time they'd seen him. His face wasn't swelled and the bruising was nearly all gone, and he didn't have any casts on, which was a plus, though he bemoaned the fact that he wouldn't be getting any pity sex.

When the doctor finally signed his release, Puck's mom was eager to get him out of there and home, so the rest of them dawdled about the parking lot. Quinn played airplane with Beth until she was too exhausted to swing anymore, and her mom suggested they all get home and have some dinner. Shelby had had to park in the far back, and they each offered to drive them to the car. She insisted it was fine, and after the three of them took off for home, started the long trek back, carrying Beth in her arms.

For the first time in more than two weeks, Quinn slept uneasily, but when Rachel asked what was wrong, half-awake from Quinn's jostling, she had no answer. Just a bad feeling.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

As much as Shelby had been dreading her return to Lima when she first heard about the hostages, she had found herself almost pleasantly surprised by how it had turned out. Seeing Puck had not been nearly as awkward as she had expected it to be, primarily, she suspected, because he was still simply too much of a teenage boy, too _male_, to acknowledge any tension himself. Quinn and Rachel were a different story, but they had both been shockingly cordial, if nothing else. Quinn had even favored her with a smile or two, more than a step up from her last visit to Lima. And Rachel had even given her a hug.

Their hugs were still lacking in that connection Shelby felt whenever she held Beth, the little girl she had raised from a helpless infant to the precious little toddler she was now. Giving birth to someone and caring for them, helping them achieve a first word, a first step – they were two very different things. She knew that now, and part of her regretted teasing Rachel with her presence the way she had, knowing they could never have what she had with Beth.

It made her feel all the more envious to see Quinn swinging Beth through the air, hugging and kissing her, tickling her, and having Beth respond with giggles and smiles. They were two peas in a pod when they were together, and as much as Shelby tried not to be jealous, knowing she was the one taking Beth home and that she was the adult – though she'd regrettably failed to act like it on several occasions now – it was hard not to be. Somehow, Quinn and Beth had forged a connection that Shelby had failed to imprint upon Rachel.

But she had to let that go. It was why she had come back in the first place, after all, to help Quinn and Puck _and_ Beth to have the connection she and Rachel didn't, and to forge something new and unique with her daughter. And just because it had failed last time, a few months ago, didn't mean they couldn't try again, especially with the adjustments in attitude Shelby had seen in Quinn, and even in Puck and herself.

So despite the slick parking lot and the long drive home ahead of her, Shelby carried Beth to her silver Lexus with a smile, patting her back to keep her precious girl fast asleep and contented. She adjusted Beth higher up on her shoulder so she could dig in her pocket for her keys, and once she had the door open and the dome light on, she leaned in to settle Beth into the car seat, tugging her pink blanket up to her small shoulders and brushing little gold strands of hair from her face. Things would be just fine, Shelby decided, smiling. They all had Beth to think of, and that would carry them through.

She lifted her knee off the seat to slip out and then the world cracked in front of her. Her head spun. Black and white flashes blinded her. Her tailbone hit the pavement and sent another shockwave of pain up her spine. Her skull felt like it had been cracked open and her brains were falling out.

But there was a figure in front of her, leaning into the car, and Beth was screaming, "MOMMY!"

Shelby picked up her keys and stabbed at the person's leg with them haphazardly, trying to find purchase on the ground or the car to pull herself up, but her progress was halted by what felt like a sledgehammer to the face. Her nose snapped.

"HELP!"

Her head was pounding and now she could feel blood gushing down her upper lip and into her mouth. It was metallic. She spat it out into a puddle and scrambled to her hands and knees, grabbing at one of her high heels, forcing herself up and as the man came at her with a palm open to shut her mouth, she slashed at him. His ski mask cried out as it was shredded and he shouted, "YOU BITCH!"

A red line was scratched across his cheek. Shelby went for him again, to strike at him with the heel. The back of his hand met her jaw and she heard it pop before she felt it, stumbling this time against the cushion of the back seat. She held her high heel out at him threateningly. He moved forward once more. Shouts from across the parking lot stopped him. He paused, glared at her with cold blue eyes, and ran for it, limping slightly.

Shelby breathed sharply. Her high heel clattered to the pavement. Her vision faded.

"Mommy?"

#

Quinn had hardly slept all night. After the third time she accidentally woke Rachel with her tossing and turning, she grabbed a throw and sat at the window instead, staring out at the sleeping neighborhood. She watched as lights started to come on in different houses, cars coasting down the streets in near silence as the skies turned grey, and finally the sun peeked over the horizon. She picked herself up then, to work out and shower and to prepare breakfast for all of them, even her mom, since it would be an hour before she had to leave for work.

Her mother didn't question her at all when she came down the stairs, dressed and ready for a long day at work. She simply sat at the table and sipped her coffee, reading the newspaper Quinn already had set out for her and then flipping through the mail, setting aside the junk. She finished off the plate of French toast Quinn had served her just as Rachel came down, still clad in her pajamas, and kissed them both on the cheek before she left for work, leaving Rachel with a big, sleepy grin.

At least until she noticed that Quinn's agitation hadn't faded, and then she hugged her around the waist and kissed her shoulder blades until she stopped cooking and sat to eat with Rachel.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Rachel cooed between bites, eyeing Quinn concernedly.

She pushed a cut up chunk of the toast through the syrup on her plate. "Not really."

"Was it…bad dreams?"

Quinn shook her head. "I don't know." She dropped her fork. "I don't think so. I don't know."

Rachel was worrying her lip, gazing at her, and Quinn dug her hands into her hair with a sigh.

"I just have a really…really bad feeling, I can't…"

"Well, we'll just relax today. Movies. A documentary," she assured, reaching across for Quinn's hand.

The landline phone rang. Quinn sighed and squeezed Rachel's fingers. Probably a telemarketer, she supposed. Her mom would call her cell if it was an emergency. She picked up Rachel's hand in both of her own and kissed her knuckles gently, feeling soothed by the very motion. The machine picked up with her mom's voice.

"You've reached Judy Lester and Quinn Fabray, we're not in right now, but if you leave your name and number, we'll get back with you as soon as we can."

A beep. "Quinn, it's Puck. Pick up. You need to get to the hospital right now. Shelby and Beth were attacked last night."

Rachel dropped her fork with a clang, and mere moments later, the tires squealed as Quinn slammed her foot down on the gas.

#

The media attention on Quinn had faded somewhat after Jacob Ben Israel's 'suicide.' They'd found a new target – an unpopular boy and the dangers of bullying. Still, they'd had to use the side entrance to the hospital more than once when they spotted a journalist or two lurking around the emergency lot. Today, Quinn wouldn't have any of it.

She stormed past the cameras, pulling Rachel through behind her and shoving them out of the way when necessary, plunging into the mayhem of the emergency room until she spied Puck's mohawk and his waving arm. She pushed through again.

"Where's Beth? Is she okay? _What happened_?"

He held up his hands before setting them on her shaking shoulders. "She's okay, she's okay. She's in the hospital daycare right – "

She barely heard him over the pounding in her ears.

"_I need to see her_!"

He rubbed her shoulders. "Okay, I know, okay. Come on, it's down this way."

Puck's hand found hers after he petted her hair down, and Quinn tightened her clammy hand around his, refusing to lose it while he led her down the hall and Rachel followed up at the end of their little line. Quinn felt as if she might crumble into pieces. Her entire body shook, and Puck and Rachel had to steady her more than once when her knees gave out.

She swallowed down bile over and over again, until the moment Puck opened the daycare door and there was Beth, sitting with a little redheaded boy as she piled blocks one on top of the other. Her chest loosened. A sob escaped her, and Beth looked up, and grinned.

"Lulu!"

Quinn swept her up the moment she was within range, abandoning Puck and Rachel's hands to hug her tighter than she'd ever held anyone before. She kissed her cheeks and her hair and her nose and her forehead over and over and over again, only stopping to hold her up by the waist and look at her beautiful face. Beth simply giggled through it all, grabbing fistfuls of Quinn's hair and smiling at her.

"Lulu, you okay?" She wiped clumsy little fingers on Quinn's cheeks.

She nodded her head shakily. "I am now, baby. Are you? Are you okay?"

Quinn held her against her chest again, looking Beth over for any signs of injury. There was a bandaid on her upper arm, and Beth lifted it up to show her the tiny bruise.

"The nurse lady gave it to me to make it better," she said sagely.

Quinn set the bandaid back over it. "Well, we'd better keep it on there, then," she breathed. Beth bobbed her head. "Are you okay, honey?" She ran her thumb over Beth's soft little cheek.

"There was a bad man." She pouted her lips out. "He hurt Mommy and they said I can't see her ri' now."

Quinn sniffed hard, glancing to Puck as his hand appeared to pet Beth's hair back. "You'll see her soon, I promise. I don't want you to worry. You and Mommy are going to be okay. All right? You trust me?"

Beth beamed and bobbed her head again.

"No matter what happens, I don't want you to be afraid. Okay?"

She shook her head rapidly. "I'm not no more."

"Good. Because I am never going to let anything bad…_ever_ happen to you. I promise."

Beth nodded, and Quinn curled her closer again, hugging her tightly while Beth's little fingers tugged on her hair. She closed her eyes, breathing in her baby's sweet smell, the smell she'd had since she was born, when Quinn first held her. She smelled like Johnson's baby soap before she'd even been bathed in it. Quinn rubbed her palm over Beth's back, biting down on the tears that burned the back of her eyes and slid rebelliously down her cheeks.

Quinn glanced briefly to her right, to Rachel, and tried to smile in response to the softness on her face, the sweet and tender curve of her lips. Her breathing came easier when Rachel reached to stroke her upper back, kneading lightly on those muscles which were still tense and trembling.

Beth was okay.

#

When Quinn was finally able to pry herself away from Beth, with Puck's reassurance that he would stay with her, she and Rachel went to see Shelby. Quinn peeked in the window before she knocked, seeing her sitting up in bed, sipping from a straw, and wide awake, ready for company. Shelby smiled a little when she saw Quinn, but it widened as Rachel stepped in behind her.

"Sorry to interrupt, we just wanted to see if you were okay," Rachel offered, and Shelby flipped off the TV instantly.

"No, you're not interrupting anything, please. Please, come in." She waved them further inside, and Rachel went to her, slowly dipping down for a hug.

Quinn shut the door. Shelby wasn't in dire straits, like the rest of their friends had been after encountering Gabriel, but she certainly hadn't fared _well_, either. Her nose was broken, it appeared, and her cheek was badly bruised, swelled up to the point that she could hardly see Shelby's eye. She seemed to have a few scrapes and bruises elsewhere, as well, and when she hugged Rachel back, it was eagerly but very stiffly.

Quinn paced to the window, waiting while Rachel drew away from her.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she breathed fervently. "Noah called us this morning and when we heard that you and Beth were attacked, I…" She shook her head. "I was so worried. What happened? How-how did this happen?" She gestured vaguely over Shelby's general appearance, worrying her lip again.

"Well, I was…buckling Beth into her car seat and tucking her in and I went to get out of the car and – well, I guess he-he slammed the door shut on me while I was getting out," Shelby said slowly, grimacing as Rachel gasped. "He was trying to grab Beth, so I tried to fight him off, I got – I got my heel off and hit his face with it, the police took it to see if they could get any DNA off of it. I had been screaming and Beth was calling out for me, and the paramedics scared him off, I guess, I passed out before they got to us."

Rachel was covering her mouth. "God. I'm…I'm so sorry, Shelby."

She shook her head, taking Rachel's hand. "It could have been a lot worse. As it is, I only have some bumps and bruises. And a concussion, and, well, the nose."

Rachel's lower lip poked out. "Your perfect nose. God."

Shelby chuckled softly. "I'm happier to be alive with a broken nose, trust me."

"Was he limping?"

Both brunettes looked over at Quinn, and she leaned heavier against the window, crossing her arms tighter.

"I…well, yes, I think he was. He had…blue eyes and he was wearing this ski mask, I told the police all that, though."

Quinn nodded, pursing her lips. "I need to talk to Shelby for a minute, Rachel."

She glanced between the two of them. "Okay. Okay, I'll be right outside."

Rachel hugged Shelby again, and Quinn felt her move up next to her and kiss her cheek. The door clicked shut a moment or two later, and Quinn turned to face Shelby.

"I want you to check out, today, if possible, and take Beth away." Shelby opened her mouth, and she raised a hand. "Not just out of Lima. Out of Ohio. Maine or California or Alaska, as far away as you can manage."

Shelby's brow furrowed. "I don't understand, I thought – "

"Haven't you put it together yet?!" Quinn stopped herself, rolled her neck, and took a breath, lowering her voice. "The man who attacked you, that was Gabriel. He wants to hurt me for ruining his plans. And next time, he will kill Beth, and he has gotten into the hospital undetected once before." She closed her eyes, and a few tears escaped. She licked the salt from her lips. "So you need to take her away. Get her out of here. Don't contact me or Puck or anyone else in Ohio until I contact you, even if I never do. Do you understand?"

Shelby stared and nodded slowly. "I'll get out of here today, and Beth and I will go."

Quinn swallowed bile. "Thank you."

She nodded, almost to herself, and drifted out of the room to be immediately enveloped in a hug by Rachel. She burrowed her nose into Rachel's neck, squeezing her as tightly as she had Beth, and let the tears flow this time while Rachel rubbed up and down her back.

#

Quinn spent most of the rest of the day hovering over Beth in the daycare, despite the nurses on duty huffing every time they looked over at her. She didn't pay them much mind. Mostly she watched her daughter playing with puzzles and 'reading' books, though it was more 'interpreting the pictures' than actual reading, and playing with blocks. Rachel and Puck brought lunch for all of them, and afterward, Beth crawled into Quinn's lap for her afternoon nap.

At dinnertime, Shelby arrived in a wheelchair – hospital regulations – and the three of them helped gather Beth's things and carry it all out to the car. Quinn and Puck kissed Beth one more time before they set her in the car, buckled her up, and waved them off as Shelby drove away. Puck gave one last pat to Quinn's shoulders and even hugged her before he went home.

Rachel insisted on doing the cleaning up from the breakfast mess they had left behind once they arrived home, while Quinn sat and watched her, helpless. And her mom insisted on making dinner, so she watched some more, and picked at the eggplant parmesan. And then watched her mother and Rachel take care of the dishes.

They ushered her to the living room to watch the TV screen until it was time for bed, and then Rachel hugged her as they fell asleep.

Quinn expected to sleep at least somewhat better, knowing Beth was out of town, out of Ohio soon. Out of danger from Gabriel. But it was still a fitful rest, filled with tossing and turning, and visions of crosses and blood until finally she fell asleep simply from the exhaustion of more than a day without sleep.

She dreamt again, of Rachel, surrounded by an ethereal glow from the sun. Or shining on her own, like a star, Quinn couldn't decide. It didn't matter. Rachel was radiant, smiling as she darted along the paths of Schoonover Park, turning to curl her finger at Quinn now and then as she followed, pushing branches out of her way. Rachel laughed and sang.

_Run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me!_

Quinn found herself laughing, running after her in bare feet, catching more and more glimpses of Rachel's pristine white gown, untouched by the trees and leaves and bushes. Rachel stopped suddenly and Quinn bowled her over, and they fell – only to land safely and softly in Quinn's own bed, against the pillows. Rachel laughed wildly, beaming up at Quinn.

_You caught me._

Quinn smiled, petting hair from Rachel's face, and kissed her warmly. Kissed her over and over again, down her neck and chest. She pulled the gown from Rachel's body, leaving her naked and vulnerable, her tan skin painted amber by the lamplight. Quinn kissed her breasts, down her stomach, between her legs. Rachel moaned, squirming, grasping Quinn's hair as she brought her closer and closer with her ravishing tongue, until finally she burst and nearly howled Quinn's name.

Quinn crawled up the bed to Rachel, kissing her again, over and over, keeping her warm with her own body heat. Rachel smiled and arched into her, holding her.

_I love you._

Quinn adjusted, spooning Rachel, kissing her neck and her lips one more time until they drifted off to sleep.

When Quinn woke, it was to the feeling of something sticky, wet, and she lifted her hand in the pitch black, trying to see. She couldn't even see the outline of her hand. She reached away, finding the lamp, and switched it on. Blood. The mattress and blankets were soaked with it and there Rachel laid, eyes wide open and glassy, a knife sticking out of her chest. Her white gown was stained with red.

Quinn shook her head rapidly. She herself was covered in it, in the crimson of Rachel's thick blood, flooded in it, drowning in it. She choked on it, grasping for Rachel's shoulders and shook her, kissed her and tried to breathe into her mouth. When she lifted her head, Rachel's lips were covered in blood. Quinn tried to wipe it away – it only spread more.

The door slammed open and Quinn stared at a figure in flannel and plaid and a ski mask, laughing and singing.

_One, two, three, four, how many more do you adore? Send them away, one by one, but this is the one I'll kill for fun. Make her run, run, as fast as she can fly – or I'll catch her and you can watch her die._

Gabriel cackled, throwing his head back, and Quinn lunged, tearing away his ski mask to see her own eyes suddenly staring back. The head cheerleader with the sneer and the tight ponytail smirked and snapped.

_Who's the selfish bitch now?_

And plunged the knife back into Rachel's chest.

#

"NO!"

Quinn was utterly drenched in sweat, she could feel it dripping down her spine as she sat up, looked around frantically. Rachel was snoring next to her, snug in her pink pajamas. Quinn breathed in tightly through her nostrils, something building in her stomach. A flash of blood and the knife and a red Cheerios uniform, and Quinn stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, hurling into the toilet.

It was only moments before she felt Rachel pulling her hair out of her face and the light flicked on. She grimaced as she saw sheets sopping with blood, puddles of it in patches. Quinn's stomach lurched again and again, until she was empty, as Rachel cooed and petted her and kissed her wet hair. Sweat still slid down her cheeks, along with tears now, and she sobbed into Rachel's chest as the brunette tugged her close, holding and rocking her.

"Baby, oh, baby," Rachel was murmuring, stroking her hair and back, kissing her again and again on the top of her head. "It's okay, I'm here, it's okay. Shhh."

Quinn's tears drained slowly through Rachel's gentle coaxing and her soft singing. She couldn't seem to settle on one song, borrowing lyrics from here and from there. Quinn sighed and traced over her heart, where the knife had been. Her fingers shook and she sat up, catching Rachel's eyes in the process. She looked away.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Rachel stroked down her hair. "Was it a nightmare? About Gabriel going after Beth?"

Quinn shook her head gradually, licking her lips to try to get moisture back in her dry mouth. Rachel bit her lip and scooted closer.

"Quinn, talk to me, please. You're really worrying me here…"

Quinn looked at her, swallowed, and said hoarsely, "Y-you need to leave."

Rachel was taken aback, her eyebrows rising. "I don't understand."

"You can't stay here anymore. I need you to go back to your fathers," Quinn went on. "I need you to go. Now. _Please_."

Rachel's jaw moved and she tilted her head, trying so hard to understand. Quinn stood, bracing herself on the counter and stumbling out to the bedroom to start gathering Rachel's things back into her suitcase, trying to steady her breathing. Rachel joined her after a moment, grabbing onto her hands.

"Quinn, wait, please. Can we talk about this? What did I do? I – "

Quinn shook her head vehemently. "Nothing. You just need to not be here with me. You have to stay away."

Rachel deflated, closing her mouth as Quinn stuffed her shirts and the little emerald glass trinket she had gotten her in Columbus at the conservatory. "O-okay…"

"I'll drive you back tonight." Quinn nodded, sniffing.

"No. I – my car's still out there, I'll drive myself."

"Then I'll follow you."

Rachel seemed to debate, but said nothing and only helped Quinn gather her things a little less haphazardly before they went out to the cars, passing the squad car where the police officers sat up abruptly and turned on their engine. Quinn followed Rachel's car closely to the Berrys' and then hopped out to help her lug her suitcase back up to the house. Rachel stepped inside, thanking her quietly, and paused in the doorway, frowning at her for a few moments. Quinn nodded and turned to go.

"Quinn."

She stopped, glancing back at her.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Rachel asked steadily, but her lower lip trembled.

Quinn shook her head. "No."

"You still want me," she pressed.

Quinn nodded, trembling. "Yes."

"Okay. Then I'll see you soon. Everything's going to be okay, Quinn."

She bit on her bottom lip. "Now it is."

Then she turned and walked back to the car to drive home.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Rachel couldn't sleep. Alone, without Quinn, she felt vulnerable again and trickles of fear traveled up and down her spine every time she turned over, imagining a man in the corner or lurking outside her window. When she did sleep, it was only to have more nightmares like the one she'd had that sent her to Quinn in the first place. Now, though, Quinn was the one who was shot at the end, or if it was still Rachel herself, there was Quinn standing across a room, across a lake, an ocean, a ravine – away, unable to reach her, screaming.

But she couldn't go back. Quinn now needed her to be away and Rachel was determined to do what Quinn needed. She couldn't do anything else after seeing Quinn like that. She was worse than terrified, sick, or grieving, she was utterly _broken_. Like the look on her face when they heard Noah's message about Shelby and Beth, only multiplied.

So Rachel stayed at home, in her unused bed, until she could take the tossing and turning and the nightmares no more. She hopped on her elliptical to work off some of the extra energy before a shower and the vocal warm-ups and practicing she had been neglecting since housing herself with Quinn. When that was finished and she had nothing more to do but stare at the four yellow walls of her room, Rachel trotted down the stairs to get breakfast around for her fathers.

She had all three place settings out and ready, food steaming on plates and coffee in mugs, when her fathers appeared, still in their pajamas and staring at her in surprise. Dad came forward to hug her first, adjusting his crooked glasses.

"Sweetie, this is a surprise." He squeezed her close and she smiled, popping up on her tiptoes to hug him around the neck.

"I know. I'm sorry if I startled you. I came home late last night and I didn't want to wake you."

Papa gave her a squeeze under one arm once Dad released her.

"Did something happen, with Quinn?" He was fishing already.

Rachel hesitated. "Yes and…no."

"You didn't break up, did you?" Papa actually looked alarmed by the idea.

She shook her head. "No. Shelby and Beth were attacked yesterday, by Gabriel."

Dad touched his mouth and then her shoulder. "Oh, God. Are they all right?"

Rachel nodded. "Shelby's nose is broken and she has a concussion, but they're fine otherwise."

"We ought to go see them later," Papa said, seating himself.

"You can't. Quinn sent them away." Rachel bit her lip, scooting in across from him.

Dad sat at last, as he said, "And you, too."

Rachel nodded. "She had this really bad nightmare last night. She wouldn't tell me what it was about, but I know it scared her, she was so…upset and just – _panicked_, I've never seen her like that before. She rushed me out of the house like it was on fire."

"Well, up until now we've all been assuming that any threat from Gabriel would come directly to her," Papa reasoned. "It must've hit her pretty hard, finding out he was so close to her daughter."

She sighed. "I know, I know it terrified her, you should've seen her yesterday. She could barely stand up at the idea that something happened to Beth…"

"We don't have to have seen her to know how she must've felt," Dad pointed out, squeezing Rachel's hand. "We were there, too, when you were taken hostage."

"And this man is worse than we thought," Papa mused.

Her brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

"Well, we know he likes to use fear, clearly, or else he wouldn't have gathered a church full of prejudiced people to commit his murders. But that was a big event for him, with a lot of people to control, and you told us he played games with you. That was the only way he could torture all of you at once, but the main source of torture was just waiting for him to kill you. Now he has one target that he can take all the time in the world with, he can play whatever games he wants."

She shook her head. "But Quinn knows that. She knew he was going to play games with her, she told me so herself, that she had to refuse to be afraid."

"She didn't anticipate that the waiting she would be doing was waiting for the people she loves most to die. She thought it would be her. That's the torture. Waiting, being able to do nothing, and watching everyone she has left die one by one."

Rachel frowned, turning her fork. "That's what he did to us in the hotel, making us watch Kurt die."

"Except in that situation, Quinn had some control, didn't she? She talked to Gabriel, convinced him to do this or that – get you water, let you bathroom. She's fighting an invisible enemy this time, someone she can't reason with."

That, Rachel could see, would be terrifying for Quinn. No leverage, no way to manipulate, no way to logic her way out. No control. She worried her lip.

"So the only way she can see out of it, is to send me away."

Papa nodded. "He's watching her, somehow. If she sends you off and pretends you mean nothing, it's protection, setting you outside the radar."

Rachel closed her eyes. "I don't want to be protected. I want to be with Quinn."

Dad found her hand again, squeezing. "We know. But for now, maybe it's best not to be. Besides, we've missed our girl, haven't we?"

Papa nodded his agreement, and Rachel tried to smile as they fussed over her and made excessive yummy noises while they wolfed down breakfast. But all she could think of was how it was practically a dull, bland pile of dough in comparison to Quinn's breakfasts.

#

Her fathers couldn't entertain her all day as it was, for soon after finishing off the dishes, the two of them headed to work, fancy in their suits as always, and Rachel was left to her own devices. Previous summers had left Rachel busy with dance or singing classes, or a community theater project, or off on vacation with her fathers. This summer was supposed to be filled with New York and Finn, and when Kurt and Blaine got back from their honeymoon, exploring the city with her best friend while he made her jealous with his stories of a brand new happy marriage.

Then everything had changed, thanks to Gabriel. And then again. Rachel hadn't even had time between changes to make a new plan for the summer, between spending every second with Quinn and now, being ushered out of her life like she'd just blown out a candle. Quinn was just gone, just like that, and Rachel didn't know what to do with herself.

More vocal exercises, she tried that. She did a little stretching and dance practice, too, and played on their karaoke machine in the basement. It wasn't nearly as fun without an audience, however, so that activity died out quickly, and her computer came out instead, for the first time in weeks. She checked her email, her social media pages, and her phone over and over. No communication from Quinn.

There was a gaping hole where Quinn had been already, an emptiness in Rachel's life. It reminded her of the Nothing in The NeverEnding Story, and the very thought of _that_ had her grabbing one of her pillows to cuddle with, in lieu of snuggling up into Quinn's comforting arms. She missed deciding what to do on a whim, waking up with each other and heading out to do whatever Quinn had secretly planned, or whatever they felt like. A walk in the sunshine, a cold dip in the lake, just lying around watching movies.

Rachel tried to steer her thoughts away from that emptiness with returning and deleting emails and liking new statuses and pictures from her friends since the hostage situation. She filmed a new performance with her camcorder – a very heartfelt and apropos rendition, in her opinion, of Fall to Pieces – and uploaded the file to YouTube and MySpace, spending the next couple of hours refreshing the pages to see how many likes and comments she'd had thus far, until she could take that no more either, particularly after Santana left her a comment that only reminded her of who she was missing: 'Surprised you can still sing, thought your mouth had become fused to Blondie's.'

It was far too hot to bake, but her fathers always kept the house impeccably clean, so it wasn't as if she could spend any time doing that, and her own room hadn't been touched in weeks, so it wasn't as if it needed any touching up either. So all Rachel could think to do was throw her dirty clothes in the laundry and start baking up a storm, and by the time her fathers got home from work, the A/C was working on full blast to make up for all the heat she was generating.

At the very least, the three of them spent the evening in a sugar coma from all the brownies and cookies and cake Rachel had made, and they joined her on a round of karaoke to cheer her up. Having an audience was much better, especially such an enthusiastic and kind audience. A few board games later, she was cheered up and content, but when they went off to bed, her loneliness crept in on her again, and Rachel was unable to sleep, unable to even turn her lights off after reminding herself earlier of that green-eyed Gmork on top of Gabriel's unnerving image. And so she spent the rest of the night trying to come up with a to-do list for the next day, and staring at her phone, wishing Quinn would say something. Anything.

#

Quinn tried to go back to sleep after Rachel left. Once. She was almost instantly greeted with the image of Beth impaled upon a spike and slept no more. All she could do after that was stare out her bedroom window, hugging herself and telling herself over and over again that Beth and Rachel were safe. Beth was out of Ohio by now, with Shelby, out of harm's way, and Rachel was with her fathers. Protected.

A part of her protested this idea that Rachel and Beth were safer away from her, because after all, wouldn't they be safest with the person who loved them most in the world? With the person who would lay down her life to keep them safe? In one way, this was certainly true, she allowed privately. Quinn would never consciously let anything bad befall her daughter or Rachel. Never.

But Gabriel wasn't just out to kill Quinn. He was out to break her. He'd already killed Mercedes – not intentionally to hurt her at the time, but she was dead all the same – and he'd gone after her daughter. He had figured out where her weaknesses were and he intended to exploit them, and Quinn could acknowledge this all she wanted, but it was this very knowledge that broke her. Just thinking of her mother, her daughter, Rachel in danger shook her to the core, and she couldn't think straight anymore.

This was Gabriel's goal, of course, but nothing Quinn did or thought could stop the spiral, and he had already half-won, because now the thoughts were there. The image of Beth on a spike, of Rachel stabbed through the heart. The fact that Mercedes had died, alone, crushed in an explosion. The idea of blood, Rachel's blood, soaking her sheets.

Quinn had thrown up twice more from the reminder of choking on her blood. She still couldn't quite shake it. So she was no longer fully able to protect Rachel and Beth, incapacitated as she was, and it was better that they were with other people, other people who loved them and would keep them safe. Not the half-broken mess Quinn had become.

Her mother poked her head into the room a half hour before she usually left for work, bearing a toasted bagel and a coffee.

"Quinn, darling?"

Quinn glanced back to watch her set the mug and plate on her nightstand before moving swiftly over, feeling her forehead.

"Lucy…" her mother cooed.

"I'm okay," she mumbled.

"Clearly, you're not, you look about to faint. Sit down. Please, honey. Where's Rachel?" Her arms were wrapped about Quinn's shoulders, though she refused to budge from the window, trying to urge her away. "Is she not well? Is it mono again?"

"No." Quinn sighed, shaking her head. "I sent her home."

Her mother paused. "Did you argue?"

"No…. She just can't stay here right now."

"It's Gabriel, isn't it?"

Quinn pursed her lips. "You know, maybe you should…stay at the hotel, with Dad for a while, I – "

Her mother tightened her grip. "Quinn. You are Beth's mother. So you know just as well as I do that I'm not going anywhere. You can send a daughter or a girlfriend to safety, but you'll never get rid of your mother." Quinn leaned into her touch as she curled her hair behind her ear. "Besides, you need to let go of this idea that just because your father's visiting, we're somehow going to get back together. You know I don't quite trust him again, either, dear, after all, he did cheat – "

"I know. I know." Quinn waved a hand slightly, cupping her chin.

She sighed. "Darling, I just want you to be happy. You were so well on your way to it, to letting go of your past, and then… I know this has hit you hard, not only nearly losing Beth, but losing Mercedes as well. It doesn't mean you stop again. I'm not saying forget, but perhaps think about moving on? Not for your father, or for me, or even for Rachel – don't look at me like that, I know you think about her relationship with Finn – but for you. Remember how happy you were? When you got into Yale and you realized what a brilliant future you had ahead?" She smiled, squeezing her closer.

Quinn dropped her head down, but nodded. "I know, I remember."

"You still have that. And now you have it with someone who cares very much about you. And you might just have a proud father again to go with it all." She petted Quinn's hair down, and Quinn's eyes fluttered shut. "Think about it? And eat something and rest today, please. I love you." She kissed her head.

"Love you, too."

Her mother kissed her again, on the cheek this time, and gracefully made her exit, leaving Quinn to lean her head against the window and watch her drive off to work.

#

Quinn's stomach rumbled in the afternoon, reminding her of her mother's request, and while she preferred not to rest and end up falling asleep, Quinn was willing to at least eat the bagel her mother had brought up for her. She dumped the coffee in the kitchen sink and then manually worked on dishes, until she wound up staring out at one of the neighbors mowing his lawn.

She missed Rachel. She missed holding and kissing her at her leisure and treating her like a queen. She missed running her fingers through her long, brunette hair, and she missed laughing and joking with her. But the very idea of doing any of those things invited the image of Rachel dead on her bed.

Quinn had to let it out. Somehow, she had to get this nightmare out of her system, or she'd never be able to keep anything down again, food or beverage. Nowadays, she'd turn to Rachel, curl up with her and tell her everything, maybe with a little coaxing. But the last thing she wanted was to frighten Rachel, to terrify her, and she couldn't see her anyway.

So, Quinn would've told Mercedes. One of her best friends in the world, always willing to listen and understand, and no longer available. Beyond Quinn's reach. She couldn't talk to Santana or Brittany about something like this – they wouldn't understand. Brittany would only be frightened by it and get nightmares of her own, about Santana or herself, and from what Santana told her, she was only just getting over the night terrors after the hostage situation recently.

She could talk to Santana, but never about something this serious. She'd make light of it, or try to provoke her into being unafraid, and that wasn't what Quinn needed. She needed Mercedes.

The cemetery was completely empty. No sign of visitors, save for bouquets of flowers or ribbons waving in the breeze. There were a few American flags standing proudly next to a couple of graves, and a squirrel darted across Quinn's path, clutching a nut tightly and jabbering to itself as it went up a pine tree. There were bright purple flowers at Mercedes' fresh headstone – pansies, she thought.

Quinn cleared her throat, tightening the ribbon around the stems. "There." She bit her lip as she straightened. "I'm sorry I'm here for such a selfish reason. I promise to visit sometime just for you. Soon. But I need you right now." She hesitated, wishing Mercedes was there to prod her, prompt her into speech, instead of spewing at a grave. "I don't know what to do. I…"

"Quinn?"

She whipped her head around, half-relieved, half-irritated. Both emotions deflated when she found Sam standing there, a fresh bouquet of red tulips in his hand. She tried to smile as he wandered closer.

"Hi."

"Hey." He stood next to her, tapping the stems on his hand. "I didn't know you'd be here."

She shrugged. "Neither did I."

"Where's Rachel?"

Quinn peered up at him, eyebrows raised.

"You've kind of been attached at the hip lately, I thought…" He shrugged.

She sighed. "I can't be with her right now." Off his look, she went on, "Gabriel attacked Beth and Shelby the other night."

Sam's eyebrows popped up. "Jesus. Did they catch him? Did – "

"No. No, he got away before anyone arrived, but Shelby said she did get a scratch in with her heel." His mouth opened and she added, "And Beth's…fine, she's okay. I sent them out of town."

He nodded, looking relieved for her. "So you sent Rachel away, too."

Quinn pursed her lips, but dipped her chin.

"It makes sense. If I had known…" Sam sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, if I was in your shoes, I would want to get Mercedes out, too. Even if it meant being away from her."

"I had this nightmare…" She hesitated.

Sam tilted his head down at her, waiting, and prodding when she said nothing, "Yeah? Me, too. All the time now, actually. Sometimes they're good dreams. I'll save her. But most of the time…I see her crying and still alive, buried. But she can't get out. And then by the time I get to her…it's too late."

Quinn set a hesitant hand on his upper arm. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Sometimes I dream about killing him, though, afterward. If I don't wake up, like, sweating and stuff." He nodded.

"He's me," she mumbled. He stared at her, and she cleared her throat. "In my dream, I take his mask off, and…it's me. The me who cheated on you and Finn and…I killed her. I see her laying there in this white gown, with a knife in her chest. Blood…everywhere." She closed her eyes, swallowing to stop the nausea. "I try to save her, but. It's too late," she echoed, looking up at him at last.

Sam pulled her into a gentle hug. "God. I'm sorry. God, no wonder."

Quinn nuzzled the soft fabric of his t-shirt and snuffed, "No wonder what?"

"No wonder you look like hell."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Gee. Thanks."

Sam lifted his head up then, smiling slightly. "No offense."

"None taken. You've always looked like shit," Quinn retorted sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

He grinned, patting her shoulder. "There she is."

She couldn't help a small smile, that comfort she felt with him after finding out about Mercedes, the kindred feeling seeping back in as she stood there with him. It was nice. Not the feelings themselves, of course. The terror, the grief, they were the least pleasant of feelings, but feeling them _with_ somebody, with Sam – with no expectations of a relationship or a date or anything like that – it was nice. She almost felt like they were supposed to be friends all along, like they had always been friends anyway.

"Do you ever think…what would've happened if Gabriel hadn't…?" Quinn mused, tilting her head down at the grave.

"God, all the time," he sighed. "Probably not how you do, though. I like to think, you know, we'd have ended up back together. I know it's not realistic, like you, but – "

"Sam, reality doesn't have to be sad. You and Mercedes may have found your way back to each other, you just never know. Maybe not…the week after the wedding, but maybe eventually."

"Yeah, maybe. I like to think that we would've. You know, I had the perfect proposal planned?"

Quinn's lip curved up. "Did you?"

Sam grinned shortly. "Yeah, I…not that I was going to propose back when we were together, right then or anything, but you know how I think about this stuff." She nodded, so he went on, "Anyway. I had this whole thing set up in my head. I was going to spend like a whole week giving her little gifts, right? Like all the dream things she always wanted but never thought she was going to get. A book autographed by Aretha Franklin and a limited edition record with a retro record player and an original Ohio State football helmet – you know – "

"Oh, she would've loved that," she breathed, smiling widely.

"All that stuff." Sam flashed his teeth back at her again. "And I was going to get the biggest, fattest diamond she'd ever seen, like the size of her fist, you know? First I was going to spend the day on her, though. Send her to a spa, have her serenaded by a barbershop quartet, take her out to, like, Dan Tana's or Good Stuff for dinner and order her champagne and a cake – you know, just to make her think the ring's coming, and then take her home by horse-drawn carriage, and instead of getting out my keys to go into the apartment, get down on my knees…and propose. Of course, it'd be Valentine's Day."

"Of course." She nodded, grinning up at him. "That sounds perfect, Sam. She would've really loved that, I know she would've."

He just smiled at her and then sighed down at the headstone, turning the tulips in his hands. Quinn bit her lip, watching his smile drain into a longing frown.

"I brought her something, too," she said at last, digging in her pocket. "I meant…to give it back to you. And then when you and Mercedes ended things when you left, I almost gave it to her, to remember you by. The right moment never came. So I was going to give it to her now."

Quinn showed him the promise ring he'd given her, over a year ago now, twirling it in her fingers. "It never really belonged to me, anyway."

Sam smiled slowly, his big eyes sad and wide. "Quinn. You're a really good person, you know that?"

She reached to take the tulips from him, murmuring, "Here," and slid the ring around two of the stems until it reached the red ribbon. They bent to set the bouquet down by her headstone together, and Sam wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulders. She leaned into him, sighing softly.

"I miss her."

"I know. You're doing the right thing, Quinn." Sam patted her shoulder lightly. "Protect her. And then be with her as long as you can."


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Quinn made it home with time enough to make dinner for her mother, at least a little pasta with some breaded chicken. Neither of them felt much like eating, however, and wound up sitting at the dinner table, turning their forks about in layers of sauce and penne. Quinn ate some, of course, to please her mother, who between glances out the window would stare at her with that concerned and stern look that only mothers could manage. It seemed to ease each time Quinn took a bite, but the glances out the window weren't decreasing in frequency.

"What's the matter?" she asked eventually and set her fork down to glance out as well.

Nothing. Just the squad car at the curb. A neighbor was walking his perky little Cocker Spaniel by the house. Quinn could see the officers watching until the two were all the way past the front lawn, and then they picked up their Styrofoam cups and their jaws started flapping again.

Her mother waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing, dear. I just had this odd feeling on the way home; I guess I'm still a little bothered."

Quinn straightened. "Did something happen?"

"No, no. I just…thought I had seen this car following me home once or twice before. But I suppose there's more than one blue car out there, after all, and it's probably just the same route back to their house as to ours." She waved her hand again and picked up her fork.

Quinn stared. "Take a different way on Monday."

"Darling, there's no need to worry – "

"Please. Just try it. If you don't see the car, then fine, but if they follow you…then we need to tell them." Quinn nodded out the window, and her mother's indulgent smile faded.

She twisted her fork. "Very well. But I'm sure it's nothing."

Quinn only nodded and dropped the subject, seeing how her mother's fingers fidgeted and she shifted in her seat. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe her mother was right. But Quinn wasn't about to take any chances. She only hoped she could convince her mother to stay close to home over the weekend, rather than heading out on any of her shopping excursions or the like.

After they cleaned up the dishes and slid them in the dishwasher, Quinn went to her room to check her phone and fiddle around on her computer, feeling more at ease now that her mother was home and she had spoken to Sam – and Mercedes, in a way – about her nightmare and her decision to send Rachel away, and having him support it. It was better this way, and she wasn't the only one who thought so. Still, she missed Rachel.

But Quinn had to take her mind off that, so she sat at her desk and unlocked her blinking phone. There was a text from Santana, saying that they were working on bribing the Breadstix owners to let them have a performance one night next week, one more little reunion after everything that had happened. She didn't bother replying at the moment and instead checked her email, Facebook, anything and everything except for Rachel's pages, until she could take it no longer.

Quinn slid headphones on and watched Rachel belting Fall to Pieces over and over and over again, memorizing her soulful, longing eyes, the way the sweater and skirt she'd chosen hugged her little body, and the way she sang _I'm in love with you_. She tried to stop, to exit out a few times, but the emptiness and the silence of her room led her to open the window back up and listen again. Eventually, she made her way to bed with laptop, headphones and all, and managed to fall into something of a restful doze while Rachel's sweet voice cooed in her ears.

#

When Quinn woke in the morning, it was to find her mother already gone, off to get groceries, according to the text she'd been left with. Already, she cursed herself for letting herself get wrapped up in much-needed sleep rather than keeping a closer eye on her mother. But there was nothing to be done about it now.

All Quinn could do was try to maintain her normal routine, and not think about how that maniac could be following her mother, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. All those thoughts succeeded in doing was sending her spinning into another spiral of broken images and nausea. She couldn't do that again. She couldn't just stand at her window staring ahead, imagining her daughter or Rachel or her mom dead, impaled, stabbed, shot.

So she did her stretches, worked out, went for a run, did more stretches, and showered. She managed to keep down another bagel for breakfast and then did all the dishes manually before she decided to go on a sweep of the entire house. She cleaned the four bathrooms first – scrubbed the toilets, sinks, and tubs, mopped up the tile floors, vacuumed the rugs, dusted the cabinets, cleaned up the counters, and in her own bathroom, reorganized all of her soaps and shampoos, brushes and hair clips and combs, toothpastes and floss and toothbrushes – then she did much the same to the kitchen.

While the tile floors were drying, Quinn vacuumed every carpeted room in the house and then broke out the duster, making several trips outside to shake it out and to empty the canister in the vacuum cleaner. Every time she stepped out the front door, the cops stared at her, looking rather puzzled over what on earth she was doing. She started using the back door instead.

She even cleaned out the tool shed out back and did a little gardening, dropping down on her knees in the dirt and yanking weed after weed out from between her mother's carefully composed landscaping. After the paths were empty of ugly weeds and dead plants or the occasional leaf, she washed herself off thoroughly, changed into another black outfit, and went about wiping clean wood cabinets and shelves with lemon scented Lysol, pulling down the windows and screens to spray and scrub dirt from, changing curtains and sheets, shaking out the foyer rugs and cleaning off shoes, returning her tennis shoes to their brilliant, pristine whiteness, and even throwing a batch of laundry in.

By mid afternoon, the house was spotless. No one could accuse Quinn of missing a single speck of dirt, and she sat staring at it all on the freshly vacuumed couch with a heavy sigh, on the verge of an unpleasant feeling, until she realized she could do some organizing in her room. Her phone was blinking with text messages, one from her mother saying she was going out to lunch with a friend she'd run into at the grocery store, another from Santana confirming that they would all be performing at Breadstix on Wednesday, and another from Rachel, which simply said, 'Morning! How are you doing today?'

Quinn sent Santana and her mom back 'Okay' and plopped on the bed, opening up her laptop again to seek out Fall to Pieces – only to find another new video had popped up on Rachel's feed. This time Arms, by Christina Perri. Quinn slid her headphones on and spent the next couple of hours studying the bittersweet smile on Rachel's plump pink lips, the special curls in her thick brunette hair, the white vest and the tease of tan cleavage it allowed, and listening to her sing _You put your arms around me, and I'm home_.

It was only hearing the door slam downstairs that jerked Quinn out of her half-doze, and she flew down the stairs to help her mother pack away the groceries, only to find her looking anxious and uncertain, staring out the kitchen window past the squad car, holding unnecessarily tightly onto a bag of grapes. Quinn frowned.

"Mom?" She jumped visibly, but smiled at her brightly. "What's wrong? Did you see the car again?"

Her mother shook her head, dropping the grapes on the counter. "No, no. Everything's fine, dear, I just…spooked myself, it's all right."

"It doesn't look all right." Quinn stepped closer, hesitantly touching a hand to her mother's upper arm. "What happened?"

She sighed. "Nothing, really, Quinn. I've been jumping at my own shadow ever since you were in that dreadful hostage situation; it's just extra nerves, that's all."

"It's not all. Don't pretend, we always pretended." Quinn swallowed. "Do you think you were being followed?"

"No, of course not." Her mother waved a hand, set it on her chest, and slowed her breaths. "I'm really fine, darling. I promise."

Quinn pursed her lips, but silently obeyed her mother's implied command and dropped it. They packed away groceries together, and her mother did seem to calm as they slipped back into routine, making dinner and a little dessert side by side in the kitchen. They ate on the couch and then Quinn grabbed a pen and the newspaper, and her mother picked up her glasses and her laptop to do some work – and that was when it occurred to Quinn.

"Mom?"

"What is it, darling?"

"That client you had, that was texting you all the time…what ever happened with that?"

Her mom pulled down her glasses. "Well, actually, he called and said he didn't require our services anymore. It was quite a surprise to all of us, he'd been so adamant about the project. Why do you ask?"

Quinn worked her jaw. "When did he call?"

She shrugged, considering. "A couple days ago."

"Did he have blue eyes?"

Her mother paused, realizing. "I don't recall… Quinn, you don't really think…I mean…" She stopped and then shook her head. "I think that would've been rather bold of him, don't you?"

"I think he's insane." Quinn sat up, pushing herself to the edge of the couch. "I want to tell them."

"Quinn, we don't even know that it was him, and even if it was, obviously he's backed off now, so – "

"Mom, his face is scratched now. He's got a defining mark – he can cover a limp to some extent, he can't do that with a scratch."

"There's always makeup," she pointed out.

Quinn's eyebrow cocked. "He's not exactly a makeup kind of guy. He hasn't backed off. He's following you."

She sighed, setting her glasses in her lap. "We don't know that."

"_I_ know that. I'm not going to let something happen to you, I won't." Quinn gritted her teeth. "I will not lose you, too."

Her mother seemed to measure her for a moment before she set aside her work and made to stand, breathing, "All right, well, we may as well invite them in. I'm sure they'll have plenty of questions."

Quinn shot up next to her, taking her hand as she went to lead the way to the door. "Thank you."

Her mother promptly tugged her into a hug, and they went out to the squad car hand in hand.

#

Quinn crawled into bed what felt like days later, though it was actually only a few hours. The cops had had more than plenty of questions for her mom. They had called the commissioner and a sketch artist in after two hours of initial questions, and then Commissioner Ryder sat in the kitchen with her mother asking what sounded like the exact same questions over again. What did he say his name and address was? Could they have the paperwork he signed sent over to the department? What did he look like? Did he say anything that led them to believe he was Gabriel?

After another couple hours of this, the sketch artist sat down with her mother and questioned her about his description until all she could say was 'I don't know.' Then finally, the commissioner told them to get some rest, that they would put an APB out on Joseph S. Perros, though they were almost positive it was an assumed name, and that the sketch, plus the newly acquired scratch, would be released to the local media immediately.

Thankfully, the police seemed to take the hunch more seriously than Quinn's own mother had. It seemed they were more inclined to try and catch him after he had threatened the life of a two year old, and though Quinn would have preferred not to go through the nightmare of hearing that her baby could have been killed, it was something of a relief that the police would have preferred it, too, given how they had been treating the case up until now.

And Quinn felt better. Knowing that the police were on it, they were trying, and they were going to protect her mom from Gabriel. The idea of blood and gunshots and knives felt farther away now, but the bed still felt remarkably cold and empty. She still missed the feeling of Rachel's warmth beside her, hearing her hum and giggle and chatter between endless questions. She reached over to her laptop, hauling it over with her headphones, and alternated between Fall to Pieces and Arms until she drifted off into a dreamless half-sleep.

#

Quinn's mother was gone again in the morning, with a text saying that her father was back from Colorado and that they were going to church. They hadn't wanted to wake her, evidently, and Quinn was at a loss. After a long stretch, workout, and run, as well as another light, toasted bagel, there was nothing left for her to do. Well, except organize her room, but it was already so well organized, and the moment she opened her closet to see her color-coded, seasonally arranged clothes, she was only reminded that half the reason was Rachel.

She checked the MySpace page again – the only reason she still had one. No new video yet, though she watched Fall to Pieces and Arms one more time. But before she could allow herself to fall into the cyclical pit of watching them over and over and over again and pretending Rachel was there singing to her, Quinn dragged herself from bed and got on her bike to head over to the Jones' to see if Sam was around. As luck would have it, just as Quinn went to knock, Sam swung the door open.

"Whoa," was his only comment.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Hi." She bit her lip. "Where are you headed?"

"Gun range." He lifted up the triangular brown case from his side and shrugged. "I like to practice, make sure I don't hit any, uh, innocent bystanders or human shields."

Quinn smiled a little. "Can I come?" When he only furrowed his brow, she went on, "If I stay at home…I'm either going to go crazy or go to her…and no one else really understands."

"So you want to learn about gun safety instead?"

"Why not?" She shrugged. "Maybe you can teach me how to aim so next time I hit the bastard where it counts."

Sam grinned. "Not a bad idea. C'mon."

He gestured to his truck, and Quinn hopped in next to him, turning her phone on silent when she received a text.

'Morning, how are you today?'

#

By the time Quinn biked back home from her lesson with Sam, it was far into the evening and she was much more comfortably knowledgeable in the area of guns. Not only did she now know that Sam carried a .45 caliber Para Ordinance Warthog, but she knew it had a thumb safety and how to turn it on and off. She also knew it was a semi-automatic, and not a revolver, which meant the bullets didn't need to be inserted individually or on a clip. She knew how to load it safely and check the chamber to see if it was already loaded, and how to disassemble and clean it with a kit.

Sam had also taken the time to teach her how to use the sights on the gun for proper marksmanship, but they had spent the most time on aiming and firing. He helped her find a proper stance and grip on the gun – a Warthog's grip was shorter, he told her, and better suited to a woman's smaller hands – and taught her how to brace herself for the kick back, something that had sent her stumbling when she'd first shot Gabriel. When the firing range was closing, Quinn had it down pat, with no rocking back or even a sway in her step. She had even managed a shot fairly close to the middle of the target toward the end.

And fortunately, learning all this had taken up enough time that her father and mother had had dinner and he had already left for the hotel again, and that Quinn had kept Rachel safe another day. Not to mention her mother was still safe, though she seemed almost as rattled as the day before – not rattled, actually. Just anxious, as if there was something she wanted to say, but simply couldn't.

Quinn didn't have time to wait and find out what it was, however. She was desperate to check her MySpace page, and once in her room, she laid down in bed to memorize Rachel's newest song, Walk Right Back, and her sassy smile, her lavender tank top over her perfect perking breasts, and the way she demanded _Walk right back to me this minute, bring your love to me, don't send it_.

#

Rachel was fairly certain this was what going crazy felt like. Not only did she have no idea what to do with herself, but she was beginning to think her phone was malfunctioning or something because why else would Quinn _not answer her_?

After her morning elliptical workout, shower, vocal warm-ups, dance practice, and then posting Arms to her MySpace and YouTube on Saturday, she had spent most of the rest of it staring at her phone, waiting for it to buzz with news from Quinn. Nothing. Not one little peep. Quinn was incommunicado. There was nothing!

No texts, no phone calls, no emails. Not even a Facebook message or poke or a comment on YouTube or even a MySpace comment, for God's sake. Quinn hadn't hit a thumbs up or a like all day, not on anything. She was nowhere in the technological world, and this led Rachel to seriously consider going back over to her house to see if she was still alive, but soon came to the conclusion that Quinn would freak out if she came back and then scoot her back into her fathers' arms faster than she could ask 'how are you.'

Rachel could understand that. She did understand. Or at least she tried. Quinn was paranoid, worried that Gabriel was watching. But she couldn't possibly be so paranoid as to think they couldn't even text each other…could she?

Rachel almost preferred to think she was, because at least then she wasn't left with the options of Quinn's phone being broken, her own phone being broken, Quinn not wanting to talk to her, or Quinn being dead. Exactly zero of these options were appealing to her, because if her own phone was broken, she would have no way of knowing at the moment because no one else was talking to her – at least, not via text. She _had_ had one private message from Tina on Facebook, informing her that they were all performing at Breadstix on Wednesday night, which was something to look forward to. But if Quinn's phone was broken, who knew how long she'd wait to get it fixed? And the other two ideas were just unthinkable.

But what if Quinn really didn't want to talk to her?

The panic at the idea that she had smothered Quinn sent Rachel over to the hospital in need for Kurt to talk her down and tell her how to fix it, because he knew better than she did when it came to these things and he was so levelheaded and objective in regards to her love life. Only the nurse promptly told her that Kurt had been released when she arrived, and when she went to the Hudson-Hummel home, she was greeted by Mrs. Hummel, who in turn informed her that Kurt wasn't seeing anyone, not even Blaine.

Another door shut on her, Rachel returned home sulking. Her best friend wasn't talking to her; her girlfriend wasn't talking to her. No one else in glee was close enough to her to want to hear about her problems. Not Artie, not Tina, not Mike – definitely not Santana or Brittany. No one else was there to talk to her down.

So she tried to do it for herself, pacing the length of her bedroom carpet determinedly.

"Quinn's not breaking up with me. She's not. She said she wasn't. What if she's just too nice? What if I've guilted her into all this and now she feels she can't be cruel enough to cast me aside when I've clearly placed so much hope on her and our relationship? Oh, God, what if she's trying to tell me it's over with silence? Would she do that?

"No." Rachel stopped, frowning at herself in the mirror. "She cares, she wants me. She does. She needs me, and I need her. Maybe she just needs space. People need that, right? Other people… Especially Quinn, Quinn is strong and brave and private – closed off, she probably just needs space and time. She's just scared, she wants to protect me. She's just going a little overboard, that's all. Worrying too much. She'll calm down and see we belong together and realize how much she misses me, and it'll all be okay."

She paused, frowning at her silent phone.

"God, how long is it going to take?!"

"Rachel, honey?"

Rachel whipped around and already her cheeks were flaming bright red, even before she spied her Papa peeking in, eyes narrowed.

"Who are you talking to?"

She cleared her throat. "Barbra?"

He smiled a little and stepped into her room, pushing the door partly shut behind him. "You know what good old Babs would say?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders, smoothing out her skirt. "'What good is love? If you have to face…cold, hungry days and sighing. What good is love? If life's just a race to keep your heart from crying.'"

Papa cupped her cheek. "'When eyes meet eyes and the feeling is strong, I turn away from the wall, I stumble and fall, but I give you it all.'"

She closed her eyes with a smile, listening to his deep baritone before chiming in, "'I am a woman in love, and I'd do anything to get you into my world and hold you within, it's a right I deserve over and over again. I am a woman in love.'"

He brushed his thumb over her cheek and kissed her forehead. "Don't give up, babygirl. She'll come back to you soon enough. You just keep letting that love shine through."

He winked, and Rachel couldn't help but smile. He was right. The only thing to do when faced with a stubborn, frightened Quinn Fabray was to outlast her. To persist when she could persist no longer. Patience wasn't one of Rachel's virtues, but stubbornness. Stubbornness she could and would manage. She was already winning, simply by refusing to give up.

So on Sunday morning, after a pleasant dinner, karaoke, and a long game of charades with her fathers, Rachel texted Quinn again with almost the same message, as if they had talked all day long. When she received nothing in return, she simply turned up the volume on her phone – just in case – and went off to finish her morning routine before she posted a new video, a new song – Walk Right Back. Quinn couldn't let Gabriel drive her crazy, and Rachel couldn't let Quinn do the same to her. And the next time Quinn saw her, she would be in for a battle the likes of which she'd never fought before.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

After Quinn's usual workout the next morning – and watching her mother take off for work, followed by a police escort this time – she found her phone blinking with about a million messages – mainly from Santana, though Rachel's requisite 'Morning, how are you today?' sat idly in her inbox as well. She scrolled through the Spanish swear words until she gathered what Santana wanted, a meeting at Lima Bean in the afternoon, and typed off her agreement before she headed to the shower.

There was little to do around the house since she'd done her heavy cleaning job, and she couldn't exactly bother Sam every day in order to avoid her anxiety and her need for Rachel. So Quinn whiled away the morning hours doing the few dishes left from their most recent meals and refreshing her MySpace page, waiting for Rachel to post something new. Another sassy beckoning, or another sorrowful love song, a ballad, anything.

But the feed remained sadly empty, and Quinn wound up watching the other three over again instead, until it was time to meet with Santana and Brittany and she hauled herself from bed to get dressed. It was another rainy day out, and there was a certain chill in the air, so Quinn layered her black outfit with a fall raincoat and an umbrella before she made the drive over.

Brittany's arm waved high in the air the moment Quinn stepped in, shaking out her umbrella, as if it would've been hard to spot the two of them sitting there in the nearly empty, post-lunch hour café. But Quinn only gave her a smile and ordered herself a coffee and sandwich before she sat down across from the two of them, tossing her coat over the back of the metal chair.

"You look like shit," Santana greeted her.

Quinn merely nodded. "Good afternoon, Santana."

Brittany was looking around. "Where's Rachel?"

"Don't know. Probably at home. Why the urgent texts?"

Santana stole one of Quinn's chips as soon as she popped open the small packet. "Did you dump her?"

"No. Just spending some time apart. Gabriel came after Beth last week."

"Well, thanks for telling us!" Santana kicked her calf under the table, and Quinn hissed, scooting backward.

She rubbed her leg. "I haven't really had a chance to let you know. Besides, you'll both be fine."

Brittany nodded, reassured.

Santana, on the other hand, scowled. "Right, we're only your best friends. Not like he'd ever think to come after us."

"He's not going to come after you." She rolled her eyes heavenward, then held up a finger when Santana opened her mouth. "One, we're not related. Two, we haven't even spent that much time together since he's been watching. Three, if he wanted to come after you, he would've already."

"If he didn't come after Beth until last week – "

"Beth doesn't live in town. He took an opportunity when he saw it."

"And how, exactly, did he _get_ an opportunity like that, hm?"

Quinn hesitated. "I think he's been following my mom." Santana's smug smirk dropped. "I think he followed her to the hospital when we were all meeting to see Puck off and he saw Beth, and he grabbed the chance."

"Is she okay?" Brittany cut in.

Quinn nodded. "She's fine. I told Shelby to get her out of Ohio."

"And kicked Berry to the curb, too," Santana noted.

She pressed her lips together. "I would really rather not discuss it. You asked me here, remember? What's going on?"

Santana straightened up then. "Right. We need to come up with a song for Wednesday."

Quinn slid her pickle over to Brittany's plate, eyebrow rising. "We?"

"Yes, we. This is going to be one of the last times we all – "

The bell above the door jangled, and Santana halted to look over her shoulder. Quinn's heart thumped as Rachel stepped in, trailed by Mike and Tina. Big brown eyes glanced over, and a smile lit up her beautiful face. She took a step – and Quinn shook her head subtly. The smile faltered.

"Anyway. It's one of our last performances together, which means it's one of our last chances to kick everyone's asses."

Rachel moved up to the front counter when Tina nudged her arm. She wore a bright yellow raincoat and rubber rain boots, decorated with black outlines of stars here and there. They looked like stickers, like she might have added them to the outfit herself. The tops of her knee socks rose up above the boots. They were neon pink.

"And of course, the only way to do that is to pull out the big guns. We need to whip out the Unholy Trinity."

Rachel undid the sash around her waist. Underneath the raincoat was a fine strawberry red dress with a small v to tease down her chest and a little slit up one toned, tan thigh. Of course she wore a golden necklace with a star charm, resting proudly on her breast bone, and a pair of earrings with hearts dangling from the ends.

Fingers snapped in Quinn's eyes and she blinked, jerking backward.

"Earth to Quinnie!"

Her mouth twisted reflexively. "_Don't_ call me that."

"There she is." Santana sat back, folding her arms with a smirk. "What's with the mooning? I thought you were 'spending time apart.'"

"Quinn, you can't do that in public," Brittany chimed in.

Her eyebrows twitched, but she turned her attention back to Santana. "We are. Why can't the two of you just do a duet?"

She scowled. "Don't tell me you're not coming, Q. You're coming."

Brittany whispered, "You shouldn't do that in public, either."

Quinn grimaced. "I don't see the point in going."

"The point is, we haven't done a number since Say a Little Prayer and we need to school the losers. They need to remember that we are still the best there is."

"Why?" Quinn glanced over the table and grabbed her chip bag back from Santana's plate, only to find it empty. She sighed, crumpling it up and tossing it at her head.

Santana dodged it. "Because. Because you need to represent Mercedes."

"Don't use her, Santana," she groaned.

"You'll be letting her down if you don't perform one more time for everyone," she sing-songed.

"I hate you."

"I know."

Quinn sighed, glancing past her to Rachel, sitting and giggling with Mike and Tina. She was giving one of those big smiles, big enough to crease her dimples.

She sighed. "Did you have a song in mind?"

Santana smirked in triumph.

#

After an hour of tossing back and forth song ideas with Santana, watching Brittany perform complicated and often semi-inappropriate dance moves in the aisle, and alternately staring at Rachel and feeling her staring back – Quinn needed a break. She scooped up her trash, tossing it away while Brittany was doing something involving the splits again, and headed off toward the bathrooms, answering Santana's shout after her with, "Nature calls!"

And once she was finally alone, Quinn leaned her palms flat on the counter and stretched her rigid back out, closing her eyes, and drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Santana was a lot to deal with on the best of days, and add Brittany and her idiosyncrasies to it, not to mention Rachel watching her like a hawk and vice versa… She had a feeling she was going to be very worn out when she arrived home.

The feeling only increased when the door clicked shut and Quinn glanced over to find Rachel standing there in that sweet little red dress and yellow rain boots, smiling broadly at her as she stepped closer. Quinn straightened, grabbing for some paper towels from the wall to wipe her hands off with before she headed toward the door.

"That's it?"

She halted, staring down at Rachel.

"You're not even going to say hello?"

She cleared her throat. "Hello."

A beat passed between them, and Quinn went for the door again. Rachel sidestepped in front of her, and Quinn sighed, bringing herself up short and taking a step backward, out of Rachel's space.

"What are you doing?"

Rachel smiled. "I started a mini-fight over who's going to have the best performance out there. Do you really want to waste my cleverness _and_ our alone time?"

There was a mischievous spark in her eye, a playful curve to her lips as she swayed toward Quinn.

She shook her head, lifting a hand between them. "This isn't a game, Rachel."

Instantly, her expression darkened, lips dropping into a frown. "Don't you think I know that? I was in that hotel, too, you know."

"And did you like that?" Quinn raised her eyebrows. "Did you like having someone put a gun to your head?"

Rachel's frown deepened, her arms closing in on herself.

"That's what I'm trying to protect you from, from going through something like that again. Because it will, if we don't hide it. He will come after you, like he came after Beth."

She raised her chin, staring up at Quinn earnestly. "What if that's a chance I want to take?"

She paused and shook her head. "I won't."

"Well, I don't see you…not taking that chance with Brittany or Santana. I don't see you pushing them away for their own good," Rachel retorted, gathering herself up again.

"He's not going to come after them, it's not the same."

"Right, so there's no reason we can't still see each other. We can just be…be friends in public and it'll be the same as you and Santana and Brittany."

Quinn sighed, avoiding those big earnest eyes. "It's not…it's not the same, he's seen us, he knows what you are to me."

"So your solution is to act like we don't even know each other? To-to ignore me and my texts like I'm nothing?" Rachel tilted closer, and Quinn could feel her scanning her profile. She stared harder at the dripping faucet. "To stand here and ignore me right now? Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" A broken note entered her voice. "It's like you've ended our relationship without even telling me, like I'm just some annoying – "

"I'm not…" Quinn twisted her neck, closing her eyes. "I'm not ending this, I just – "

"Well, sure you are," Rachel scoffed. "What is this if not an end? When you don't see the person, you don't talk to them, you don't answer them, what is that? It's not a relationship. You won't even agree to a friendship." Quinn managed a glance, out of the corner of her eyes. Rachel bit into a plump bottom lip. "I miss you, Quinn. And I don't see why I should have to. But maybe…maybe I'm interpreting this all wrong, maybe it's totally different for you. Maybe _you_ can just wake up one day and decide you don't want to even be friends with someone anymore and you don't miss them and it doesn't hurt and you don't care – "

"No – no. That's not…I care," Quinn burst out, moving closer. Rachel stared up at her with tear-filled eyes. She swallowed. "You know that's why I'm doing this."

Rachel worried her pretty lip again. "Then don't shut me out. Just give me something."

She set her hands on her hips, rolling her neck. "Look, we could try being friends and it might work, for a while. But sooner or later, we are going to slip up or he is going to figure it out anyway and come after you."

Rachel sighed, snuffing once. "Fine. Fine. But that doesn't mean we can't meet in secret."

Quinn paused, staring at the new hope in Rachel's eyes, the determination in the way she set her jaw. She blinked.

"You want to have…an affair?" Her eyebrow cocked, and Rachel's eyes trailed the movement.

"Yes," she said evenly.

She hesitated for a moment. "No."

Rachel's jaw dropped, and she lurched closer as Quinn moved away. "Why not? Nobody would have to know, except your guards, and they wouldn't put us in any danger. Gabriel can't always be watching you and – "

"No, because right now he's following my mother," Quinn interrupted, and Rachel gaped.

"Judy?"

She nodded. "Yes. That client that was pestering her, we think it was him, and Mom has been feeling like she's being followed for a while now. We just recently told the cops."

Rachel seemed to process this, swallowing. "He came to her work?"

"Yes." Quinn blew out a soft sigh, walking back to her. "This is why…this is why you can't be around me, Rachel, and neither could Beth. I'm trying…to protect both of you."

Her lips pursed. "Right. And children, like Beth, need their parents to make decisions for them in their best interests. But I'm not a child, Quinn. If I want to take risks, including being with you…well, then that's my decision, no one else's. Including yours."

Quinn hesitated, taken aback by her ferocity. "And I'm choosing not to put you in danger, like I've put my mom and my daughter in danger."

Rachel was shaking her head. "You say it like you did something wrong, Quinn. You are a hero, do you understand me? You saved me, you saved everyone in that hotel! It's not your fault that Gabriel got away, it's not your fault that he went after Beth, none of this is your fault, don't you understand that?"

"But it will be my fault if you or my mom gets hurt when I know what he's doing!"

"No, it's not! Isn't this what you've been saying all along? That it's no one's fault but Gabriel's? He is a psychopath! And I know he's a threat, but like your mom, I get to choose whether or not to be with you in spite of him." She pressed a hand over her star charm.

Quinn eyed her for a moment. "I could never ask you to put yourself in that position."

"You're not asking. I'm telling you that I want to be with you, despite Gabriel, but I'm willing to compromise and only see you in secret, why aren't you willing to compromise with me?" Her arms flailed at her sides in frustration.

"Because all it takes is one mistake, Rachel! One time that…that our timing is off or you come to me when you shouldn't or that the cops are one step behind, and you're dead." Quinn rubbed her face. "You're just, you're not thinking this through."

Rachel scowled. "I've done nothing else _but_ think about us since you sent me away. I know what it would mean."

"What, sneaking around? Lying to people, your own fathers? Finn?"

"_Being together_!" Rachel heaved a breath. "I know about all the cons, Quinn, but I also know that it will be worth it in the end. You know why I know that? Because you make me so happy – "

"You'd be happy until Gabriel found a way to use you. You want to get kidnapped, shot?" Quinn retorted, setting her hands on her hips.

Rachel shook her head adamantly. "I'm not afraid."

"I _am_," she admitted, and Rachel stared, stunned. "If something…if anything ever happened to you…" Quinn swallowed. There was a burning at the back of her eyes, as the image of Rachel standing there in front of her, a knife in her chest, flashed over her mind's eye, and she imagined for a moment that her dress wasn't made from red fabric, but red from blood. "I couldn't take it."

Rachel paused, letting a moment of silence pass between them before she murmured, "Well, I can't take not seeing you."

Quinn let her head hang, her neck biting. "An affair… It wouldn't be fair to you, Rachel."

"People do it all the time. They find time to meet with each other and go back to their lives, and they're happier for the time they've had together, so why can't we do the same?"

Quinn could do nothing but stare at her drawn, tired – yet still so gorgeous face, her breaths coming swiftly from a heaving chest. Her cheeks were red with exertion and passion, and her plump red lips stayed parted for better access to air. Big brown eyes scanned Quinn's face, so intently she felt naked.

"Unless…unless you don't really want to be with me anymore." Rachel's lips quivered, and Quinn took a sharp breath, but hesitated. "If that's the case, then…you can go." She gestured to the door, stepping aside. "I won't stop you."

Quinn glanced from one to the other, from Rachel standing there solemnly to the grey bathroom door. She could end this right now, just by walking out. But her knees stuck, and she couldn't stop seeing Rachel crying, crumpled and crushed. Because of Quinn.

"I thought so," Rachel said suddenly, and Quinn wrapped her arms about her waist as she came up for a hug and a warm kiss, the first since what felt like forever ago now, and somehow it was better than Quinn even remembered. Having Rachel in her arms, kissing her sweet lips. They tasted like cherry lip balm today, but she smelled strongly of strawberries, and Quinn ran her fingers through her thick hair to loosen more of the scent and to feel the silky strands warming her hand.

Rachel's hands held her so tightly by the neck and shoulder, Quinn was almost certain she would bear a couple of red marks from it, but found she didn't mind. Rachel was frightened, trembling, kissing her with a vigorous open mouth, and Quinn obliged her with a soothing tongue and firm arms about her waist. She'd never be able to get enough of this, of Rachel's smooth body pressing into hers while they kissed and kissed, but something was burning in her for more, making her press Rachel against the wall and kiss her harder.

Rachel didn't resist. In fact, she encouraged, moaning into her mouth and fisting her hair with one hand while the other tugged buttons of her shirt loose. Quinn ran a hand down the velvety fabric of her dress, down her hip to the slit at her thigh. Her thigh was so delicate, soft, Quinn wanted immediately to be licking whipped cream off of it, but for now she lifted the dress' hem higher and smoothed her hot palm up the back of her thigh. Rachel maneuvered her leg up to wrap around Quinn's hip, and it felt so amazing – the heat from her core and the closeness of their bodies and mouths.

But then Rachel's mouth dropped down, kissing away at Quinn's neck and pulling the collar of her shirt open to make her way to her chest. Her chest where Rachel had a knife sticking out, and all at once Quinn felt a wave of nausea hit and a panic in her bones, and gripped Rachel's shoulders, drawing herself back.

Rachel was already staring at her in surprise, leaning back against the wall as she dropped her foot down.

"We can't," Quinn breathed around a fuzzy mouth, and she stepped away, only to feel Rachel grab at her arm.

"Why? Why not? Because you're afraid to open yourself up to me? Or because you don't want me, because you can't say that, can you? You can't say that you don't want me as much as I want you," Rachel insisted, pressing a hand inside Quinn's shirt, over her racing heart.

Quinn shook her head, gently pulling her wrist away. "Everyone wants things they can't have."

Rachel gaped. "This isn't about everyone, Quinn, this is about _us_, and I am right here, I want you, and I lo – "

"Q, if you're done puking up lunch, Brittany and I gots this down."

Quinn turned to frown at Santana, breathing heavily as Rachel folded her arms, backing away and into the wall again. Santana's eyebrows popped up and for once, she looked mildly chagrined when Quinn glared at her.

"Great. We can practice it at yours then," she snapped, stepping away determinedly.

"Uh…we can just send you a demo, or…" Santana glanced between them.

"No. You want to kick ass, let's kick ass."

Quinn nearly shoved her out of the bathroom, trying her damndest not to look back.

#

It was hours later when Quinn finally burned off the arousal, the excess energy and frustration from her encounter with Rachel. Santana and Brittany had long since tired of practicing, but she insisted, and since she was the leader, the head cheerleader, they continued on even after Mrs. Lopez force fed them a delicious meat and potatoes dinner. They continued on until Santana tired even of Brittany's insistence on Quinn's authority and the three of them were nearly coated with sweat and their voices were dead and broken. Then she was promptly shoved out the door.

Not that Quinn minded, at that juncture. She was exhausted. All she wanted in the world was to curl up in bed and listen to whatever video Rachel may or may not have posted during the day, and all the ones she definitely had recently, and fall asleep to that beautiful, powerful voice. Or maybe take a bubble bath and listen to her first.

The very thought had her blushing at herself – she had never been very comfortable with self-exploration – but all of that blushing and embarrassment and especially arousal faded the moment she walked in the door to find her father sitting comfortably on the couch in his pajamas, while her mother sat on her computer in the armchair nearby. Quinn slammed the door shut.

"Quinn, you're home!" Mom chirped, half-nervous, half truly relieved. She slid her glasses down her nose.

"So I am. And so is he, apparently." She tossed her coat and umbrella to the rack, staring at him as he muted the TV and straightened up.

Mom sighed. "I tried to tell you last night, darling, but – "

Her hands went to her hips. "But springing the news on me is always more fun, right?"

"I'm not moving back in, Quinn," he spoke up at last, standing up to meet her eyes. "I'm staying over until you and your mother are no longer in danger. That's all."

"We spoke about it yesterday after church, darling," her mother cut in, setting the laptop aside. "He feels we'll be safer with him in the house and, frankly, I agree."

Quinn kept her eyes on him. "We already have police guards; we don't need your protection. And I don't need your help protecting my mother."

Her father gritted his teeth. "Evidently you do, Quinn. She's been stalked; your daughter's been attacked. You don't have things under control here."

"And you will?"

"Two sets of eyes are better than one, and you know you can't handle this, or you wouldn't have sent your girlfriend away. Not that I disapprove of that decision, given the circumstances."

"Of course you don't," she scoffed.

"He already used homosexuality once, he'd use it again," he continued.

"Don't even try to act like you give a damn about that when what you're really trying to say is that I can't protect her because I'm the one who put her in danger, because I brought the _gay_ into this house," she spat.

He sighed and rubbed his face. Her mother sat up slowly, looking between them.

"I think you're the one who thinks that," her father said carefully. "I – "

"Don't try to reverse psychology me."

"What am I allowed to do then, hm, Quinn?" He frowned at her.

She raised her eyebrows. "You can leave."

He shook his head. "That's not an option."

"You can't just worm your way back into our lives like nothing ever – "

"QUINN!"

She fell silent, the frustration and the rage calming from its boiling point as he finally erupted right back at her. The silence pulsed between them, while he gathered his breath and finally spoke again.

"Whatever you might think…I love you, and your mother. I don't want you to die. So I'm going to stay and keep you safe." He looked at her for a moment, and Quinn stared back, pursing her lips. "I'll do whatever else you want me to do, but me staying here, that you're going to have to deal with."

Quinn's gaze flickered back and forth, between her mother and father. As usual, her mother said nothing. And Quinn was too tired to keep fighting. So she snuffed and turned, marching up the stairs to flop into bed with her laptop. Rachel did post a new video, with a song called Stay. She fell asleep still in her clothes, on top of her covers, listening to Rachel sing _What can I do to make you say, come back to me?_


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Yesterday had not gone well. After a point, anyway, which to Rachel, was the most frustrating part about it. She had gotten Quinn so close to opening up, to accepting their connection despite any danger associated with it, and then…something happened. Rachel still wasn't entirely sure what had broken Quinn out of their haze of lust and kisses, but something happened in that head of hers. Something made her stop and push Rachel away – again.

It was driving Rachel crazy. So after she worked out on her elliptical, showered, practiced vocals and dance, and ate another bland, stupid breakfast, she recorded another video with It's Not Over and then proceeded to call and text Quinn at half hour intervals. She wasn't sure if Quinn was watching the videos, sure, but if she was, a song was a surefire way to convince someone of something – especially a member of the glee club. And goddammit, Rachel was going to convince Quinn that they belonged together.

However, Quinn was still stubborn as hell, so her calls and texts went unanswered, and there were no comments from Quinn's accounts on YouTube or MySpace. Not even a thumbs up. And at about noon, Rachel's calls started going straight to voicemail. Quinn had turned her phone off to the barrage of attention.

Nothing Rachel had done had made any difference so far, and she was beginning to suspect that this wasn't just about some danger she may or may not be in around Quinn. After all, there was absolutely no reason they couldn't at least say _hi_ or even _text_ each other. It wasn't as if Gabriel had a tap on Quinn's phone or something, and if he did, he was probably the worst murderer of all time if he hadn't taken advantage of it.

No, this had to go deeper. To Quinn's fear of being intimate with Rachel. Not that Rachel minded waiting, but if they were going to wait, then they should do just that. Quinn wasn't doing that. She was coming so close and then stopping, every single time, leaving both of them frustrated messes. Rachel had ended up spending what felt like several hours in the bathtub the night before after their moment in the bathroom. And she knew Quinn wasn't unaffected. She wanted Rachel, just as much as Rachel wanted Quinn.

So why wouldn't she go through with it?

Rachel could think of only one person to help her figure it out. Except he wasn't exactly seeing anyone at the moment. And honestly, she couldn't blame him. He was hurt and angry and she would've been, too, had one of her fathers and her best friend died and no one else told her until it was too late to even attend the funerals. Kurt hadn't been allowed a proper chance to grieve. But Rachel still couldn't help but think it was better that he was alive and angry, like Quinn said, than dead, too.

Though she also still wanted to respect Kurt's space, like she'd been doing since she last saw him. But there was no one else to turn to. Tina had invited her out with her and Mike only after viewing Rachel's most recent videos, apparently having decided that she seemed a little too bummed to spend all day alone again, but that didn't mean Rachel could dump her problems on either of them. She couldn't bother Blaine at a time like this, either.

Rachel supposed she could just keep doing the only thing that _had_ worked to some extent so far – but outside of stalking Quinn, which didn't seem like a good idea under the circumstances, she didn't see how she could constantly corner her into a conversation. Quinn was too crafty for something like that, anyway. While Finn would never be able to figure it out, just stare at her with that uncomfortable look on his face while she talked at him, until he broke down, Quinn would start dodging her, and in the sneakiest of ways.

God, she was clever.

But then, so was Kurt. Not as clever as Quinn, but he'd be able to help Rachel figure out something. Some variety. She needed to talk to him, silent treatment be damned. So she headed out a couple hours before her fathers would be home for dinner, carrying her umbrella just in case, though the rain had ebbed off since the previous day, and marched up to the Hummel house to ring the doorbell. She bounced on her heels while she waited, only to stare in bewilderment as Finn swung open the door.

She wasn't sure who she'd been expecting, or why she'd been expecting anyone else. It was a Tuesday afternoon, of course Mrs. Hummel was out. And Blaine was probably sitting outside Kurt's door or in his room, or on the living room couch, waiting to be summoned or spoken to. Finn was the only one left.

He grinned at her.

"Well." Rachel cleared her throat, straightening. "I've come to see Kurt – I don't suppose he's talking to anyone yet."

Finn slumped against the doorframe and shook his head, grin dropping. "No, not yet. Sorry."

"Right." She twisted her mouth a few times, turning her umbrella in circles. "Well, thank you anyway."

She made it one step off the porch before Finn called after her, "Hey, uh. Is something wrong? I could help you."

Rachel half-turned, smiling sympathetically at his puppy dog face. "I'm afraid you wouldn't exactly be thrilled to talk about this particular issue, but thank you for the offer, Finn."

"It's about Quinn, huh?" He scratched his hair, ruffling it. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said that other day…you can tell Quinn I said that, too. It was totally out of line, you just, you know how I get."

Rachel nodded. She certainly did. "Actually, Quinn's not exactly speaking to me right now, but I'm sure she'd appreciate the apology."

Finn glanced back, pulling the door partway shut behind him as he stepped down to the porch. "Why, did something happen?"

She hesitated, biting on her bottom lip as she peered up at those big earnest eyes. Finn _had_ been her first friend in the world, and he'd meant a lot to her over the past three years. Everything, at one point. It didn't seem fair to talk to him about Quinn, but on the other hand, how many times had he talked to her about Quinn when he _knew_ she had feelings for him?

Besides, now that she thought about it, Finn was the perfect man to talk to. He had been with Quinn for far longer than she had, than anyone had. He would know what to do, if anyone did.

"Well." Rachel hummed, folding her arms as she considered him. He would just agree with Quinn if she told him the whole story, insisting that she was safer away – despite the fact that she was certain he would do the opposite if he was the one being attacked. "When you two were together, did Quinn ever…push you away? Stop answering you when you texted, refuse to talk to you?"

Finn's face crinkled with humor. "Only all the time. Usually cause I pissed her off somehow."

Rachel couldn't help but brighten, leaning back against the porch railing. "How did you deal with it? I mean, how did you get her attention again?"

"Uh…" He scratched his hair again before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Honestly, she sort of just starts paying attention to you when she feels like it. She's kinda like a cat like that, you know, when you try to pet it and it walks away and then when you decide you have to pee, it jumps on your lap purring?"

She deflated again, sighing now. "I see."

"Hey, but um." He bounced a bit. "You know, I never thought about using this, but one time, she told me that artists really turn her on."

Rachel's eyes widened. "She said that?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah, when Sam was doing that whole Justin Bieber thing? Like that's artsy." He did a poor imitation of rolling his eyes.

"Oh, my God, we are so meant to be," she muttered under her breath, unable to contain a grin.

"But anyway, maybe if you do something, like, artist-y…"

She nodded, feeling a spark brightening her mood. "I _have_ been doing songs lately, but maybe I need…I need something more attention-grabbing. Flashy. Show business. Music video." Her eyes went wide with excitement.

"You remember your last music video, right?"

Rachel waved a dismissive hand. "This'll be totally different. I won't be using three different guys and not telling them about each other, I'll be creating a masterpiece!"

"Right…" Finn cleared his throat. "You know what else gets her attention."

"What?"

"Jealousy." He nodded sagely, while Rachel peered at him, brow furrowed. "Whenever I was, like, paying attention to you or singing with you when we were together, it made her so mad she couldn't _not_ yell at me." He shrugged. "That's not, like, positive attention, but…"

"But it's attention." Rachel smiled deviously, puzzling it out, before she stood at her full height and looked up at him, chin jutting out. "Finn. I may need your help on this."

Finn grinned, but prodded, "Are you sure? I mean, you could use one of the other guys if…"

"No, no, you are the only one who will get a proper reaction out of her. If it's someone else, she'll just know I'm faking, so please? Please help me?"

He smiled.

#

To say that Quinn was surprised when she opened up Rachel's MySpace to find a new video featuring Finn fucking Hudson wouldn't have been entirely inaccurate. It had been only two days since she made out with Rachel in the girls' bathroom at the Lima Bean, after all, and so she thought it might be at least a few more days before Rachel snuggled up to Finn for some comfort and some sex. Of course, according to the song they were singing, there wasn't anybody who could comfort Rachel – Misery, her ass.

However, once the initial shock of seeing the girl who up until two days ago had been calling herself Quinn's girlfriend performing a much less provocative version of Maroon 5's Misery and its music video with her ex-fiancé wore off – and then the rage, too, wore off – Quinn only sat and stared as the two of them mock-tussled in what was clearly the school parking lot. She stared until the screen went black, minimized the video, closed it all out, and turned off her computer, and sat some more.

It wasn't really that much of a shock, she told herself. It had only been a matter of time before Rachel remembered her love for Finn in lieu of the gratitude she felt for Quinn. It had only been a matter of time before she walked back into Finn's arms and married him and had babies with him and eventually grew bitter and resentful for not fulfilling her dreams of Broadway, but still clung to Finn fucking Hudson anyway. Because that's what Rachel and Finn did. They broke up, they dated other people for a while, and then they got back together again, swearing their undying love. Quinn supposed maybe it was undying.

After all, there her girlfriend was, singing with him. Again.

At least there hadn't been any touching. Mostly just Finn chasing Rachel about. Almost like real life.

Quinn decided after about an hour of digging her head into her pillows and almost tearing her hair out that she couldn't keep on doing thinking about it. So she dragged herself away from bed to get ready for the performance at Breadstix, hitting the shower first despite having had one that morning after her run, and smacking her palms against the walls while she let the hot water scald her skin pink.

It was her own fault, really. She'd pushed Rachel away, and Rachel had naturally gone running to Finn. It was instinct by now, Quinn was sure.

No more thinking about it.

Quinn dried off with her scratchiest towel, combed and blow dried her hair, slipping a black headband in it before she did her makeup and jewelry. Then she yanked on another of her black outfits, a tank top, button-down, skirt, and tights. A couple of leather boots with a punishing heel on them. She rolled up her sleeves as she finished making herself up, and thank God. It was time to head to Breadstix.

Santana and Brittany were waiting for her at a table, both looking rather nervous. Or at least, nervous for them. Quinn sat next to Brittany and immediately regretted the decision when Santana said, "So, I guess you saw the video."

She glared steadily across at her. Santana grabbed a breadstick from the basket already there and crunched on it.

"Yep." She nodded, taking Brittany's hand and scooting farther into the booth, away from Quinn's death glare.

None of them spoke while they awaited the arrivals of the others, the ones that were left, anyway. The new kids showed up first, trailing to tables after helping set up sound equipment and the makeshift stage in the corner of the restaurant. Even Joe didn't bother to stop and speak to them, though. They all seemed to be keeping out of a certain radius, and Quinn had to wonder just how legendary her rage had become to garner this reaction. Fortunately for them, it didn't really matter. As long as no one talked to her about it.

Mike and Tina sat at the next booth, waving and exchanging barbs with Santana over who was going to be best. Puck, Sam, and Artie strolled in afterward – all three of them patted Quinn's shoulder, as if to say, 'we've been there.' She might've rolled her eyes if not for the fact that she was trying to pretend she was invisible.

But it was even to her surprise when Kurt came in, leaning on Blaine, Finn following after them with a dopey smile on his face. More proof that the lovestruck bunnies were back at it.

Finally, Rachel showed up, and the last of the other kids. Of course, Quinn only knew this because she felt nearly every eye in the vicinity on her as soon as Rachel came waltzing in. She continued to occupy herself with her straw wrapper, flicking it between Brittany and Santana's cups. They worked as goal posts, she supposed.

They all seemed to realize, after a few moments of silence from Quinn, that no blow up was impending – that she wasn't even about to look at Rachel or Finn – and soon enough got the performances rolling. Quinn didn't pay much attention. She assumed Rachel and Finn would be performing together, after all, and she'd rather miss that entirely, so she allowed herself to zone out, popping balled up straw wrappers over cups with the spoons now. Brittany even joined in on occasion, when she wasn't clapping or bouncing along to a song.

But Quinn couldn't tune out Rachel quite as well as she hoped, and when she started to sing, around the middle of the performances, Quinn heard her quite clearly. She grimaced, waiting for Finn's voice to ruin the sweet little tune as she sang _Baby love, my baby love, I need you, oh, how I need you_.

He never did. Quinn found herself glancing up, hesitating, and peered over heads and booths to the stage. Rachel stood alone, in a lacy white top and black skirt, swaying back and forth as she met Quinn's eyes and sang out _Don't throw our love away, in my arms, why don't you stay?_

Quinn's brow knit. What the hell was Rachel doing?

It didn't help when Rachel's own brow furrowed in response, peering at her inquisitively, almost as if she was trying to ask what was wrong. She seemed earnest. Like she had with every song she'd been posting on her MySpace and YouTube pages. Sincere, desperate. Now she was staring at Quinn, singing to her, and she knew the message was for her. Rachel wanted her still.

But why? Why would she want Finn _and_ Quinn, it didn't make any sense, she couldn't have both of them. Why would she make a video with Finn and then turn around and sing to Quinn in front of him?

When Brittany started massaging Quinn's head, she knew it was time to stop, to let it go and simply put her focus elsewhere. Like on their own performance. They had butted heads over it quite a bit, with Quinn insisting they do a song in honor of Mercedes, if Santana wanted her to 'represent' her, but Santana also refusing almost every single Aretha Franklin song Quinn suggested. So they'd compromised. Sort of.

A three-way mashup of songs from three powerful African American women – Brittany was handling What's My Name?, Santana agreed to belt Respect, and Quinn was assigned Upgrade U. And at the moment, she very much didn't mind gyrating her hips and snapping between Brittany's _Oh na na_ and Santana's _All I'm asking_, _You need a real woman in your life_. It had seemed like something of a mess during practices, at times, but when they finished, the restaurant populace was clapping and Puck was wolf whistling.

Rachel was grinning at Quinn, cheeks flushed as she cheered, but the smile started to fade as Quinn only frowned.

She sat with Santana and Brittany for another performance from Tina and Mike this time, but when he finished dancing and she finished singing What Doesn't Kill You, she headed off toward the bathroom to wipe the sweat from her forehead and retouch her makeup. Only just as she finished applying a new coat of blush, the door shut, and part of her knew who it was even before she glanced over to see Rachel leaning back against the door, flipping the metal lock behind her.

Quinn pursed her lips and promptly turned back to the mirror. "Shouldn't you be wiping someone's drool right now?"

Rachel sighed audibly. "You weren't supposed to react this way."

"Mm, how was I supposed to react?"

"You were supposed to be jealous and yell at me," she said simply.

Quinn's eyebrow cocked as she looked over at Rachel's earnest face. "You're telling me you did that on purpose, to get me angry with you."

"To get you talking to me," Rachel corrected, stepping closer.

Quinn shook her head, puffing out a breath as she stuffed her makeup kit back into her purse. She supposed it made sense now. Rachel wasn't leaving Quinn; she was trying to provoke her into grabbing her back, into getting possessive over her like she used to over Finn. Of course, she'd never really been possessive over Finn in the first place, but the idea was still the same. Get her jealous, get her back. But while Quinn had been jealous, she was also resigned.

"Obviously it didn't turn out the way I planned," she said at length, sheepishly.

"How did you think it would turn out, Rachel?" She tossed her purse down on the counter.

"I was thinking I wanted you back, Quinn, and you weren't giving me the time of day. I thought this would catch your attention, and I'm sorry that I hurt you or made you think something that's most definitely_ not_ true, but I'm desperate, Quinn. And you know what? When we first met, this was me. I was fearless, and I went after what I wanted with _no apologies_. I liked who I was back then, and you even told me you admired that about me, so that's what I'm doing right now. I want you, and I know you want me."

Rachel looked up at her with those big, fierce eyes, cheeks burning red again, though whether it was from anger or their proximity or simply the temperature in the room, Quinn wasn't sure. All she knew, was that this afternoon, she had thought her relationship with Rachel was over, and now she knew that Rachel was more determined than ever. And Rachel was right. Quinn should've figured it out, because it was exactly what Rachel would have done three years ago. Try to get her any way she could.

And it was kind of working. They were talking. Rachel was so close to her, Quinn could feel her breaths.

"We should get back out there," she said at length, and Rachel blocked her way for the second time in three days. "Rachel. We're missing – "

"Just admit you're running," she interrupted, almost smiling a little. "You're afraid to talk to me."

Quinn pursed her lips at the suggestion, taking a step backward. Rachel relaxed her stance, looking at her smugly, chin raised.

"Why would I – "

"Because I'm going to convince you and you know it. And you're scared to be convinced. That's why you've been protecting yourself so harshly."

Quinn scowled. "I'm protecting _you_."

Rachel folded her arms comfortably. "To some extent, that's true, but we both know that you're afraid of this. You're afraid of what I mean to you, to let it show, not just because of Gabriel, but because you still think that at the first sign of trouble, I'm going to go skipping off back to Finn. I'm here to tell you it's simply not going to happen."

Quinn paused at that, working her jaw, hands settling on her hips. "I don't…want people to know that you're close to me, that I care about you, because that could put you in a really bad position, and it's not about – "

Rachel chuckled. Quinn's eyebrow cocked again.

"I'm sorry," she said through a grin. "It's just…isn't it a little late for that? It came out on the news that you saved me when were hostages. We've been together almost a month now, I mean. People have kind of noticed that we're important to each other."

Quinn rubbed her forehead. "Yes, but if I stay away, he'll think you don't matter to me anymore, that it's over."

"Fine, if you think that'll work, that's fine, Quinn, protect me as much as you want, in whatever way you want," she cooed. "But then meet with me in secret."

She shook her head, turning toward the counter. "We already talked about this."

"No, I suggested it and you dismissed the idea offhand, that's not discussing it." Rachel shifted closer, leaning her hip against the counter. Quinn could feel her staring down her profile, again. "I want us to find a way to be together, but you have to meet me halfway." She paused. "Do you miss me?"

Quinn glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, gritting her teeth. Rachel moved closer, staring her down.

"Do you?"

Quinn barely nodded her head, whispering against her own wishes, "Yes."

Rachel let out a breath of relief, opening her mouth to go on, but Quinn beat her to it.

"But I'm okay."

Rachel breathed in, shoulders sagging. "I'm not. I care about us, Quinn. And I miss you, I miss you so much, I hate this. I hate being away from you. I know it's only been a month that we've really been together, but time doesn't matter when you have what we have. And I miss it. I _need_ you. And when I don't have you, I feel…like I'm a ghost, walking around…empty and not feeling because I'm afraid it's going to hurt too much if I do."

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stem off the tears that threatened while Rachel openly cried next to her, staring up at her with such hope and longing.

"We can't," she choked out. She cleared her throat, still hoarse when she went on, "It's not safe for you to be close to me."

"Not safe for who, Quinn? Me, or you?" Rachel's eyebrows rose.

Quinn shook her head roughly, straightening up. "I don't want to see you get hurt, if he comes after you – "

"_If_, Quinn, _if_. He may not come after me at all, and aren't we safer together? Two is better than one, and….and I don't feel safe when I'm not with you! You are the only person I trust to protect me, even more than my dads, and I worry about you every day, that I'm going to wake up and you're going to be dead, taken by that psychopath, and I'll just hear about it from Santana or somebody, and you know what? I don't want to worry about what he might do, I don't want to think about how short our time might be, because all we have is the present, and in the present, all I want is you!

"No matter what you think about me and Finn, I know that that video was lame and a stupid thing to do, but you have to know it meant nothing and I don't want to be singing songs about how miserable I am without you with Finn, I want to be singing love songs with you, do you get it? It's not okay that we're apart. _I'm_ not okay without you, I'm not okay without your delicious breakfasts and your perfect arms and your kisses and you treating me like a queen and making me laugh and spending time together doing whatever we want, exploring the world _together_."

Quinn swiped at her own cheeks as she rocked back a step, watching as Rachel did the same, pushing wet streaks off her face, spreading them even more. It reminded Quinn, for a moment, of how the blood had spread on Rachel's face, when she'd tried to wipe it away. She grimaced.

All she could say, weakly, was, "We can't, I can't risk you getting hurt."

There was no other word for the way Rachel reacted to this – she utterly crumpled. Quinn's heart stung sharply in punishment, and she swallowed heavily, resisting the urge to grip at it. Rachel shook her head, sniffling softly.

"Why are you fighting this so hard?" she begged at length, hugging herself. "Do you not have feelings for me anymore?"

Quinn's stomach dropped.

"I mean, I know…I know I asked you the other day if you still wanted me, but it's not really the same thing as wanting to be with me or feeling for me, is it? And you've told me we can't meet and that you care and you want to keep me safe, but you have yet to tell me how you feel."

Quinn's jaw worked. "You know how I – "

"No, Quinn, I don't. You've never really told me, do you know that?" Rachel swallowed and rubbed an eye. "Look, I miss you being part of my life. I thought you felt the same way, but if you don't…then just say so. So I can let it go."

She choked on her own throat, and Rachel sighed, tilting her head back.

"Quinn, I spent…a year making a complete fool of myself over Finn, and he was never brave enough to tell me even once if he liked me or not. Sometimes he made me feel like I was completely insane. And I would do that…and more over you, but it'll kill me if I find that it's all been for nothing, so please, don't be like him. Don't let me humiliate myself. Tell me how you feel."

Quinn licked her dry lips. "It doesn't matter how I feel."

Rachel scoffed, half-sobbing. "Quinn, I'm telling you it matters to _me_. I need to _know_. So I can make peace with it, so that if you don't…want me, I can try to move on with my life. And so if you do, I have _something_ to hold onto. _Something_ to reassure me that even if you never speak to me again after this, it's real and not just me and my wild imagination."

She shifted her stance, staring at her beautiful, wet brown eyes. "I…I'm just trying to protect you."

Rachel threw up her arms. "I don't _want_ you to protect me, I don't want you to tell me how dangerous our relationship is, I don't want you warn me, I don't want you to try to send me packing to Finn –I just want you to tell me if you feel the same or if I'm just crazy!"

Quinn shook her head wildly, and she couldn't hold herself rigid any longer. She said something, something that didn't even make it into her brain before she spat it out, maybe, "You're not crazy" or "No" or something, but she didn't even hear her own words over the sound of her pounding heart or over the sound of their breaths as she hauled Rachel into her arms and kissed her, kissed her hard and long, a second of lips locked for every passionate word Rachel had spoken in defense and desire of their relationship.

Already Quinn couldn't breathe, but nothing mattered but Rachel's willing, sweet lips and her mouth, a little garlicky from a breadstick or two, but tonight it tasted like heaven. And her slim body felt like it, pressed against Quinn's so snug and firmly, her toned back muscles rippling with pleasure beneath Quinn's exploring hands. She felt a wave of possessiveness crash over her like never before, heat pooling between her legs and tingling in her breasts. She could feel Rachel's nipples faintly through layers of clothing, hard and begging for a suckle.

But despite the wanton moans and willing way Rachel pressed against her, she didn't seem to know what to do with all the attention. Her arms looped up around Quinn's neck and stuck there, holding her close but otherwise just soaking up every moment of Quinn's kisses and touches. The moment Rachel tugged at the back of Quinn's button-down, however, Quinn lowered her grip around her narrow waist and set her up on the counter, breaking their lips apart long enough to remove the lacy white cover up from Rachel's torso.

Rachel tugged her closer by the collar of her shirt and by the grip of her thighs, bringing her snug between them and then yanking buttons loose without the usual care she gave to the task. Quinn heard at least one ricochet off the tile wall, but she couldn't care less at the moment, sucking Rachel's pulsing jugular vein and driving her hands up beneath the white tank top, stroking up her ribs. After her shirt hung open around her own tank top, her headband clattered to the floor, courtesy of Rachel's fingers coursing through her hair, scraping blunt nails on her scalp, and Quinn jerked her hips against the hot core waiting for more attention – and at the very moment Rachel let out the most amazing noise Quinn had ever heard, someone started pounding on the bathroom door.

"Hello?! I've gotta pee!"

Quinn practically snarled. But before she could say anything, tell them to use the men's bathroom or even to go screw themselves, Rachel sighed, hopped off the counter, nudging Quinn away, and pulled her top back on with a resigned frown. Quinn grabbed for her arm.

"Rachel, wait – "

She stopped only a moment. "I know, I know. We can't."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders as she backed away, unlocking the bathroom door to let in the frantic teen waiting outside, disappearing into the restaurant, and Quinn slammed her palms down on the counter.

"FUCK!"

There was a meek 'sorry' from one of the stalls, but Quinn just grunted, swiped her headband and purse from the floor and counter, respectively, and stormed back into the main room. _Now_ they could all fear her wrath.


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Quinn was relieved to have an excuse to leave the house. For the past two days, she'd spent her time avoiding the downstairs, where her father was lingering, working on his computer, reading the newspaper, and generally being a nuisance. Now she had a perfectly good reason to stay out of the house all day long – she was busy executing a plan. And her parents couldn't exactly argue with that. After all, they were the ones who had pushed her to be a planner, a strategist.

So after her morning workout and shower, Quinn headed off to the Lima Bean to grab a coffee and bagel on her way downtown. First stop, the crafts store, where she bought yards of silky pink fabric, almost fuchsia in color, several buttons of the same size, a couple yards of a velvety red fabric and even more of a fluffy white texture, a bag of glittery add-ons, a white box, a red ribbon, parchment paper.

Next stop: Kurt. She carried all but the last three items up to the front door and pounded until Finn opened the door with a rather puzzled look on his face.

"Is Kurt in?"

When he nodded, she pushed past him, waving a dismissive hand when he called, "He's not seeing anybody, though!"

"He'll see me."

True, he hadn't spoken to anyone at the restaurant last night. He hadn't even performed a song, and shortly after Rachel disappeared, he, too, took off with Blaine and Finn. But he would see Quinn. It was easy enough to find his room. Blaine was sitting just outside it on an uncomfortable looking lawn chair with frayed edges, staring blankly down at the magazine in his hands.

Quinn shoved Kurt's door open and tossed the bags onto his bed, pulling out the fabrics and smaller packages with buttons and glitter designs to line up for him.

"What the hell? What are you doing? This is my room!"

Once she'd finished settling things neatly, Quinn thrust a piece of paper she'd printed off the previous night at him, and Kurt closed his mouth, reluctantly taking it from her and looking it over.

"I'd rather be asking Mercedes, but." Quinn sighed, setting her hands on her hips. "You owe me. You said so yourself. You design and make this for me, we're square."

Kurt's lips pursed as he peered over the paper at her. "How long do I have, your majesty?"

"Three days. I want it by four o'clock on Saturday."

He glanced over the materials and the paper again before nodding at last. "Okay. Because I owe you."

Quinn merely returned the nod and whipped around, stepping past Blaine in the doorway and swooping back out of the house without a second glance at Finn, though he called after her, "What was that about?"

Now that that was taken care of, Quinn could go back downtown and finish the rest of her shopping. She went to a little shop in the corner of the mall first to buy candles – loads of them, along with holders of different sizes, and of course a lighter. The employees wound up boxing it all up and helping her take it to her car. The trunk was almost full by the time they finished, but she figured she could still squeeze in the rest of what she needed.

She dropped by the flower shop to place an order to be delivered to her on Saturday and then spent much of the afternoon searching through the different shops for what she needed next. She didn't have time to order it online, so she hoped against hope that she could find it in one of the novelty stores or something. Thankfully, the only store that offered cooking supplies had it, and another employee helped her wedge the big box into the rest of the space her trunk had to offer.

Next she went to the carpet store, the roll of which had to be placed diagonally across her backseat, and then finally she went to the grocery store to pick up a couple more items. By the time she finished with all the driving and walking and running about, it was late enough that her parents had probably already had dinner, so she picked something up on her way home and left everything but what needed to be refrigerated in her car.

She passed by her parents in the living room, preferring to head straight upstairs to see if Rachel had posted a new video. She had, and Quinn fell asleep to her cooing sorrowfully, _There will be no white flag above my door, I'm in love, and always will be_.

#

Friday was another busy day for Quinn, filled with visits to friends this time. Her first stop was Santana's house, where she pestered her for the key she'd had made to the auditorium, and wound up trading a favor – the key for a dress Santana had had her eye on for years. On the way back to get and deliver the dress, Quinn stopped at the movie theater where Mike was working for the summer and traded another favor – a couple of tickets printed in exchange for a comic book from Sam.

Which of course meant she had to trade a favor with Sam. The comic book for a video game from Puck. And Puck wanted a bottle of whiskey for the video game. That part, thank God, was relatively easy, since she knew just where her mother kept whiskey for medical emergencies or whenever she simply wanted a nightcap. She snuck in the back of the house and made it out without once disturbing her father, and by the time she completed all the exchanges and finally had her key and her tickets, it was late afternoon and she had only one person left to visit.

Fortunately, Artie was a much nicer person than the rest of her friends, at least now that she'd been in a wheelchair, too. He didn't ask for anything in exchange for running her through how to use the AV equipment in the auditorium, or for compiling a CD of instrumental tracks for her and leaving it in the AV room for her use.

Once again, Quinn was late getting home, so she grabbed another quick dinner and sped up the stairs to see Rachel's next video, in which she sighed, _Your love is so cold, it's always me who's reaching out for your hand_.

#

Saturday was all set up, for the most part. Quinn parked her car just outside the back entrance of the auditorium, unloading candles and their holders, the carpet, the big box, and checked over the CD Artie had left her for approval. Once that was all set, she went home to wait for her flowers to be delivered, headed back to the auditorium one more time, and then went to Kurt's to see that he'd finished his work.

She spared the time to thank him and took it home to box it up in the white container she'd purchased, wrapping the long red ribbon around it and tying it off with a neat bow, slipping three roses' stems beneath it. And at last, it was time to use the parchment paper. She pulled out a few sheets, practicing her neat script until she had a product she was satisfied with, and it read:

_If only for today, I am unafraid…_

_Meet me at the auditorium at 8 o'clock._

_Q._

Quinn folded it up and slipped it neatly underneath the ribbon and roses before gathering the rest of what she needed for the day and heading off to the Berry house. Hiram, thankfully, opened the door when she knocked and he brightened instantly on seeing her, a mischievous glint entering his eye when she put a finger to her lips and handed over the box. She even earned herself a wink before he shut the door and she trotted off to the car to put the finishing touches on the auditorium setup.

#

Rachel didn't know what to make of everything after Wednesday night. She knew Quinn was stubborn, of course, but she didn't think she could possibly be _that_ stubborn, and over something she _wanted_ deep down. So Rachel had to question – did Quinn really want it? Obviously she wanted Rachel physically, but something was containing that lust for her. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe Quinn was holding back because she couldn't bring herself to just screw Rachel and then end it. Maybe Rachel had jumped the gun after what happened in the elevator, had forced Quinn to accept a relationship she didn't really want, because she was too kind to reject her after their almost-tryst.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Honestly, Rachel was tired of thinking about it. She wasn't about to give up entirely. She couldn't. Not the way she felt. But she was tired, drained. She needed time to energize and then find a way to make Quinn fall in love with her and be with her again. But for the time being, Rachel simply recorded a couple of videos to express her forlornness, and then sat around the house practicing.

Her fathers were off work on Saturday, thankfully, so her life didn't seem quite so empty while they sat around the basement drinking virgin margaritas and playing board games and singing along to their stereo as it switched through their CDs. She even had fun, especially when they decided to play Clue and her daddy wore a safari hat and a fake mustache to portray Colonel Mustard, and her papa put a pipe in his mouth and wore his thick-rimmed glasses to be Professor Plum. She grabbed herself a bright feather boa to act as Mrs. Peacock and made a point of pestering them again over the fact that a cat or a dog could easily be their Mr. Body.

After Papa won a third round, they decided to go up and bake some cookies for lunch – it was always their excuse that on the weekend, they could eat however badly they wanted, and Rachel certainly didn't mind a little comfort food at the moment. So they danced and sang around the kitchen, stopping for flour and dough fights, and all wound up having to shower and change before they could even touch their cookies. They were on to eating the third batch when the doorbell rang and Dad hopped up the stairs with an energy Rachel envied at the moment. She'd never understood her papa's sighs of exhaustion when watching the two of them before now.

And when Dad came back, he was practically prancing, carrying a white box with a red ribbon around it and bearing a huge grin.

"Who was it?" her papa asked lazily, picking his head up enough to peek at the box in curiosity.

"Oh, just a secret admirer of our little girl." Dad grinned, leaving Rachel to knit her brow at him until he finally handed the box down to her. "For you, my dear."

Rachel took it carefully, setting it on her lap with a furrowed brow. There were three roses slipped beneath the ribbon and tucked beneath those, a note. She tugged out the faded, browning parchment, unfolding it and reading over the few lines jotted there. Quinn. Her heart took a leap, and she couldn't resist. She tugged the bow loose and threw the top of the box aside, pulling out a fluffy white coat with glittering, intricate arm bands, with a headband to match, and a pink dress with a low, round collar, buttons lining the front above another bow. She gaped.

"Babs' Funny Girl premiere dress," Dad gasped, in awe.

"Her whole outfit," Papa corrected, sitting up now.

Rachel glanced up at them, blinking, owl-eyed. "I have to go get ready!"

She couldn't believe it. Quinn had planned something. Something for Rachel. Something secret, private, just for them, and she had gotten Rachel _Barbra Streisand's Funny Girl premiere outfit_. She didn't even care how she'd done it – okay, she was a little curious, but not enough to slow down or give it any serious thought when she was busy prettying herself up for Quinn. For a beautiful night with Quinn.

A second shower never hurt anyone, especially when she had to design her hair perfectly, in a bun, the way Barbra had done it, and she had to layer her makeup just right, and she had to pick out the perfect jewelry – aside from her star necklace, of course – and she had to slow down her heart before she had a heart attack from the excitement. She felt rejuvenated, ecstatic, euphoric. She could hardly wait for 8 o'clock.

In fact, Rachel actually arrived in the school parking lot at 7:30 and spent the next half hour anxiously tapping her steering wheel and checking her appearance in the rearview mirror. At 7:55, she could no longer wait – five minutes seemed somehow even longer than a half hour, it seemed interminable – and she grabbed her purse and jogged up to one of the double doors, testing it. It was unlocked, so she tucked her lip under and slipped inside the empty, dark building. Her heels clacked on the tile floors, echoing off the metal lockers and brick walls, until she rounded the corner to the auditorium, and suddenly she wasn't walking on tile at all, but on something softer – she glanced down as she paused and found she was strolling down a red carpet.

She grinned so widely it almost hurt and quickened her pace down to the light coming from an open auditorium door. A popping sound emanated from the room ahead, and she wondered – but then Quinn stepped out into the hallway, in a perfectly fitted white blouse with thin navy stripes, open enough to let her cross shine against her pale chest and to tease at the valley between her breasts, and a navy skirt to match. It had been so long since Rachel had seen Quinn in anything but black that it came as a complete shock at first.

But she didn't slow her pace. If anything, she hurried her steps to meet Quinn, grinning despite herself, despite thoughts of acting aloof, of punishing Quinn a little bit for pushing her away so hard. Now all Rachel could think of was kissing the daylights out of her, but as she stepped up to Quinn, the blonde lifted her hands up between them, offering Rachel something.

"Your ticket, ma'am," Quinn purred then, as Rachel carefully took it.

Rachel grinned, lifting it up into the light from the auditorium to read, 'Funny Girl. G. 8:10 p.m. Sat. 6/16/2012. Auditorium 1.'

Before she could make a single comment, Quinn was gesturing her into the auditorium, where a real, life-size popcorn machine stood with the real red-striped bags waiting, two of them already filled to the brim. Napkins sat on the stand as well, and there were two water bottles, foggy from how cold they were.

"Would you care for any snacks or refreshments?" Quinn asked in her ear, and Rachel giggled girlishly, unable to help it.

She slipped her ticket into her purse and nodded. "Yes, please, concierge."

Rachel felt a squeeze to her shoulder before Quinn slipped by her to hand over a bag of popcorn and a water bottle, as well as a couple of napkins, and then gestured to the auditorium at large. It was only then that Rachel noticed the stage was completely hidden from view by the large projector screen, which was lit up with an old-time cartoon of a hot dog and a popcorn bag saying, 'Visit Our Refreshment Stand.'

"Sit anywhere you'd like."

Rachel looked back to Quinn quickly, drinking in the sly smile on her face. She wanted to lean forward, to kiss her right then, but she had a feeling that it wasn't in Quinn's plans. So instead she lifted her popcorn and water and traipsed down the aisle she had danced through so many times and picked a spot in the middle row, middle column, setting herself down comfortably. The lights went out and she realized with a start that Quinn hadn't followed; she glanced back, but the auditorium was empty.

The projection went black and Rachel bit her lip in the dark, until it lit up again with the opening credits of her favorite movie of all time. She couldn't help a grin as a warmth settled over her, a happiness she'd never quite felt before. She was watching her favorite movie on the big screen, in Barbra Streisand's dress, with Quinn, who sat next to her with her own water bottle and popcorn as the movie's title was introduced with a smooth jazz beat.

Rachel beamed at her, and when Quinn smiled back, set her water bottle in her lap and took Quinn's hand firmly in her own.

Throughout the entire 151 minute runtime, she could feel Quinn watching her, feel her fingers threading through Rachel's, feel her thumb brushing and caressing the back of her hand, and it was heaven. Every touch made her heart race a little faster, every look made her squirm in her seat with the intensity of those hazel eyes, and every smile exchanged made her feel warmer and safer and happier than the moment before. Rachel was certain she would never forget this. If nothing else, she would always be able to cherish the time Quinn set up a private big screen viewing of Funny Girl – for her – and they sat in the dark together, munching on popcorn and smiling and holding hands.

And when the movie closed out to black, Rachel could've cried that it was over, but then Quinn gathered their empty popcorn bags and water bottles and told her, "Wait here."

Rachel sat up, glancing over her shoulder to watch Quinn retreat up the aisle, biting her lip with another bout of anticipation and a little anxiety. The lights came up again as Quinn stepped out of the auditorium, and the Funny Girl menu disappeared from the projection. After that, Rachel lost track of Quinn. There were a few sounds from on stage, behind the screen, that had her jumping with nerves, but then Quinn peeked out from behind it, smiled, and held out her hand, beckoning Rachel.

She shot up from the seat, adjusting the fluffy coat about her shoulders, and trotted up the side steps to the stage to take Quinn's hand and slip behind the screen onto the stage. The stage that was littered with rose petals and freshly lit candles, that smelled like a garden and looked like a bedroom in the dim light, particularly when the auditorium lights went out again beyond the screen.

Delicate fingers brushed Rachel's shoulders, pulling the coat down as Quinn murmured to her, "Let me take this for you."

Rachel let her arms fall back and Quinn stepped over to the candlelit piano, setting the coat and Rachel's purse carefully on the piano bench before she gestured to the black stool that was sitting in the middle of it all, the middle of the circle of roses and candles. Rachel smoothed out the dress as she bit on her lip and hopped up onto it, swinging her feet before she hooked her heels on the rungs and watched Quinn disappear beyond the ring of candles for just a moment.

Music filled the stage, and Rachel recognized it instantly. Bleeding Love – Jesse McCartney's version, which Rachel personally thought was a clever move on Quinn's part, more in line with her vocal abilities, but all that analysis and thought fell out of her head when Quinn reappeared, smiling at her, those bright hazel eyes a-twinkle and almost glowing in the candlelight, as she sang unabashedly, _Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain, once or twice was enough and it was all in vain. Time starts to pass, before you know it you're frozen_.

Rachel almost melted right on there on the stool. God, Quinn's voice was just lovely. So beautiful, just like the rest of her, and it struck her as she watched Quinn swaying and grinning at her that she looked exactly like an angel. She was a surreal being; she was too perfect to exist in the natural world. Rachel couldn't take her eyes off her, whipping around on the stool each time Quinn circled her and grinning when the blonde teased her with tickling fingers at her waist, and turned to mush when Quinn gripped her from behind to coo, _And it's draining all of me, though they find it hard to believe, I'll be wearing these scars for everyone to see._

Rachel's eyes flew open the moment Quinn let her go again, biting her lip to try to contain her grin, but it didn't really do any good. She could've made it bleed and she would've still been beaming like an idiot. But she couldn't help it. Quinn was serenading her. Quinn was opening up a vein, no pun intended, and singing to Rachel like she'd never sung to anyone before. Not to Finn, not to Noah, not even to Sam. To Rachel. And once again, Quinn was making her feel special, more special than anyone in the world, and making Rachel fall even deeper. There was no way she was giving up on this.

The song came to a close, and though Quinn was panting lightly from the exertion, she was still smiling, and she stepped up to Rachel as another instrumental song came on. Some part in the back of Rachel's mind identified it as Chasing Cars. She sucked in a breath as Quinn leaned toward her, eyes fluttering closed to the gentle kiss pressed momentarily to her brow, just at the juncture of her nose and eyebrow. Quinn's gentle thumbs stroked down the angle of her cheeks before Rachel dared to open her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn murmured. Rachel's brow furrowed and a chord of panic hit her in the stomach, but Quinn soothed her with more tender touches to her jaw. "I'm so sorry I made you think… I miss you." She lifted her head up, meeting Rachel's eyes dead on. "I think about you all the time, every night, and I wonder what you're doing and how you are, I want to call you, I want to see you, I want to hold you, I just want to be…_with you_. I love you." Quinn's teeth gripped her pink bottom lip for a moment, and Rachel watched her tongue trace over the spot before she repeated, almost as if she couldn't believe she was saying it herself, "Rachel, I love you."

Rachel's cheeks hurt from smiling. She didn't much care, though, all she cared about at the moment was getting to Quinn's lips as quickly as possible, breathing out before impact, "I love you, too."

She looped her arms up around Quinn's neck to keep her close – she wasn't about to let her get away now, no way – and slid off the stool, wanting closer, to press her body up against Quinn's like they belonged. Quinn's strong arms wrapped around her waist in turn, cocooning her in the warmth and safety Rachel had been missing so badly, and she smelled so sweet Rachel could've taken a bite. But she only kissed Quinn over and over again, even just to exchange peck after peck, because Quinn's lips were addictive and she never wanted to be without them again, never.

Quinn, however, had other ideas, and after a few more moments of delightful lip locking, she pulled her head away with a smile. Rachel promptly pouted at her, poking out her bottom lip for good measure when her arms slid away, though she had to admit her curiosity when Quinn reached behind her neck to unclasp her cross necklace.

"I noticed you were kind of reluctant to give this back to me, after the explosion…" she was saying, and then the slim chain tickled Rachel's neck, as Quinn clasped it around hers. "I want you to have it."

Rachel touched the cross reflexively, smiling to herself. "Quinn…"

She puffed out a breath, peering up at her anxiously for a moment, before she reached back to undo her star necklace, tucking it around Quinn's neck in turn. She kissed her firmly but shortly and smiled as she gazed into those hazel eyes, curling silky blonde hair around her fingers.

"'I will never doubt again,'" she said playfully.

Quinn teased her with another soft, brief kiss before murmuring, "'There will never be a need.'"

Rachel smiled warmly, breathing out mischievously, "Definitely Clark Gable."

Quinn chuckled and Rachel nuzzled up into her neck as those strong arms circled her waist again and guided her into a lazy circle, swaying back and forth as the last few notes of Everything played out. Her head popped up again after a few moments just stroking her fingers against Quinn's chest, over the star charm, listening to the thump of her heart and breathing her in, owl-eyed.

"This does mean we can see each other again, right?"

Quinn let loose another throaty chuckle, nodding.

Rachel breathed in relief. "Good. Just checking."

"In secret, like you wanted. I'm still not – "

"I don't care, as long as I know this isn't it for us," Rachel cut in, shaking her head and pressing her lips to Quinn's, down her neck, back to where she snuggled up against her, rocking back and forth. She had never felt so content before, so at ease in the silence. Well, not complete silence. There was the music playing, but without words. Without the intrusion of trying to express meaning through mere, clumsy words. All the meaning was right there, in Quinn holding her close, occasionally shifting her hands on her back, resting her chin against Rachel's forehead – and all so delicately, so sweetly, like she was the most precious thing in the world.

A mischievous smile crossed Rachel's lips a few songs later, as the instrumentals of Take My Breath Away stirred her memory and she nuzzled her nose into Quinn's neck before lifting her head up again to look at her serene face.

"Quinn?"

Quinn's lips twitched. "Mm?"

"When you were singing this song at prom, you were singing it to me and only me, right?"

Quinn's teeth bit on her bottom lip and Rachel squealed as she felt her fingers tickling intently up her sides, but Quinn was nodding when she stopped. Rachel smiled breathlessly, calming from her giggles and hugging Quinn's neck closer.

"Sing it to me again?"

Quinn set her lips for a moment, half-smiling as she listened, and Rachel waited with bated breath until she husked, _On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame_.

She wasn't quite singing it the way she had when she was accompanied by Santana. Rachel recalled her singing it full-bodied, strong, and right now she was practically murmuring it to Rachel, breathing it out as if she was saying something particularly dirty. It had the same effect, in any case. Heat pooled between Rachel's legs, growing heavier with each lascivious drawl from pink lips. Those dark eyes didn't help matters, staring her down so intently, the way she had after Rachel had kissed her cheek in the elevator.

And as Quinn started to coo the second, _Watching in slow motion_, Rachel did just what she did after seeing that look on Quinn's face in the elevator. She kissed her, pressing up on her tiptoes to reach marvelous lips and sink into them, at once cursing and praising their irresistibility. Rachel was eager, eager to open her mouth to Quinn and to kiss her into oblivion, but Quinn was going slowly, pulling back on the reins until Rachel was simply a puddle in her arms from too many deliberate, sensual kisses over her lips. No tongue, no teeth, just lips over lips. Well, maybe a slip of the tongue or two, but the teases only made it worse, only made Rachel more aware of the tingling sensation all over her body. She was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that her nipples were straining hard already, that she was wet.

Quinn seemed unmoved by her plight, even though Rachel tried to hint, rubbing her hips against Quinn's and pressing her breasts against the blonde's. She took her time, delving into Rachel's mouth when she was good and ready to, and Rachel hugged onto her neck with a wanton moan she couldn't have held back if she'd tried. Deft, firm hands traveled up her sides and it made her arch with delight until she felt Quinn splitting them apart, breaking from her lips to protest, only to find that Quinn was attending to the buttons on her dress, carefully slipping them undone. And slowly, too.

Rachel had never been so carefully undressed, though Quinn stopped short of pushing the dress off of her shoulders. Instead she was busy setting the sides apart, lightly running her fingers over the hem of Rachel's bra and sending a shudder down Rachel's spine, a quiet moan from her lips. She shifted closer, desperately seeking the buttons on Quinn's shirt, tugging them loose with a little more care than she had on Wednesday – she did feel a little bad about ruining Quinn's shirt – though her own care was ruined by Quinn's lips on her earlobe, pulling it between and sucking on it while she cupped each breast in her palms. Rachel wound up snapping the last few buttons off with jerky, trembling hands and hauled in a breath to murmur, "Sorry."

When Quinn's chuckle vibrated against her neck via a tender lick beneath her ear, Rachel flushed and muttered spitefully, "Why do you always wear buttons when we do this anyway?"

"I love your look of sheer frustration," Quinn purred back, pulling away enough to grin at her, and Rachel's cheeks went hotter.

"Shut up," she retorted, without heat, and smiled as she pushed Quinn's shirt off her shoulders.

Suddenly she felt very self-conscious about her own body – though it was difficult to feel anything but aroused with Quinn palming and squeezing her breasts like that. Rachel tried to remind herself that she _had_ seen Quinn in a bikini before, so seeing her in a bra shouldn't be that much different, but it was. The context changed everything and Rachel could only stare stunned at the magnificent body in front of her, the shapely muscles and perky breasts encased in a wholesome white bra.

Her mouth was entirely too dry all of a sudden, and Rachel swallowed a few times to try and fix the situation. She was abruptly distracted from the task – again – when Quinn started kissing her neck again, nibbling her way down a tendon in Rachel's neck like a piece of corn on the cob, which didn't sound very sexy, but God, it felt amazing. Quinn's teeth were so sharp but yet gentle, teasing her skin every inch of the way until she left the chore to her lips upon reaching Rachel's chest, and then she started to sink.

Rachel glanced down, a bit alarmed and at the same time horribly turned on as Quinn pressed a kiss on her cleavage, where her breasts were pushed together by her bra. She tugged at the cup with her teeth, but didn't linger much longer, regrettably, dropping to her knees instead and taking Rachel's dress down with her. Rachel shivered as the chill of the empty auditorium hit her skin and shuddered with pleasure, realizing she was nearly naked in front of Quinn, and Quinn wasn't repulsed but was in fact lovingly kissing her stomach with an open mouth, teasing her tongue around Rachel's belly button, sending odd quivers through her abs.

Her knees felt weak and wobbly, threatening to give and send her tumbling, so Rachel grabbed onto Quinn's shoulder and hair, fisting the muscle and pretty locks tightly to keep herself stable. Quinn's hands were caressing her legs, up and down, circling her calves with fingertips and then flattening her palms up the back of Rachel's thighs – they were everywhere at once and the goose bumps no longer had anything to do with cold. In fact, Rachel had never been hotter in her life, particularly when Quinn pulled the hem of her pink panties down on one hip bone and delicately bit down, sucking softly. Rachel hissed and dug her nails into Quinn's shoulder, steadying herself again as she wavered and whimpered. She was beginning to feel uncomfortably wet, thighs almost sticking together.

Quinn peered up at her from her hip, giving another little bite before she wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist and leaned back, guiding her down onto Quinn's lap. She stepped completely out of the dress, eagerly dropping down to straddle her thighs while her fingers swam through silky blonde locks. Quinn kissed her again, sending sparks through her body with just the right touches, just the right amount of tongue, and then she lowered Rachel to the stage floor, settling between her open thighs, and Rachel's hips jerked up of their own accord. Her legs lashed onto Quinn, holding her tight, unyielding as she urgently searched for friction and blushed all at once at her own desperation.

But Quinn didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, she kissed her all the more thoroughly, petted her bare skin all the more lovingly, and rocked against her vigorously, helping her ease the frustration. And then all of a sudden stopped and lifted her head, almost looking as if she was listening for something. Normally, Rachel might've worried that someone else was there, but right now, all she cared about was getting more love from Quinn, and so she whined and bucked at her, mewling, "What, what is it?"

Quinn only shook her head mildly, and answered, "Just waiting for the interruption. This is usually the part, right?"

Rachel swatted her chest, but she couldn't help but laugh, especially at that big fat grin, and she leaned up to kiss her neck and face, encouraging, "No interruptions, no nothing. Just keep kissing me."

Quinn obliged, wiping the smirk off her face long enough to kiss Rachel again, maneuvering her hands beneath her back in order to slip her pink bra's clasp loose before she rocked her back into the floor, peeling the straps of her bra up her arms. Rachel felt the blush painting her cheeks even while she was distracted by Quinn's marvelous lips, but she didn't stop her from taking it off, flinging it aside, and running her firm, nimble hands over her breasts. She wanted it too badly to let embarrassment overcome her, and so instead she arched up into those beautiful hands and moaned into Quinn's mouth, bucking her hips up desperately.

Fortunately, Quinn seemed more moved by Rachel's pleas this time, for while she kissed her way down her neck, she slid her hands down Rachel's puckered ribs, over her flat stomach, to hook her thumbs in her panties and work them down around Rachel's hips. She lifted up to help her instantly, though all the strength seemed to go out of her muscles the moment Quinn's lips wrapped around her nipple. She sucked and it sapped Rachel of all control, leaving her squirming and twitching, holding onto Quinn's hair like a lifeline and demanding that she never leave her chest, because Quinn's tongue swirling around her nipple like the tip of an ice cream cone was just about the most delicious thing she'd ever felt in her life, and that included her first orgasm.

That thought only had Rachel moaning louder, realizing how good the eventual climax of this whole venture might turn out to be, and she might've been embarrassed for the noises she was making if not for Quinn's enthusiastic responses. She was letting soft noises of her own vibrate against Rachel's breast as she sucked like she was getting the last dregs from a milkshake, and she maneuvered her knee above the panties she had dragged down and pushed between Rachel's legs. Rachel kicked her calves about beneath until she felt her panties fly off, scraping nails up Quinn's back until she found her bra clasp and loosed it, wanting to see her just as vulnerable, just as naked, and heard herself begging softly, "Quinn, I need you, please, _please_, make love to me."

Quinn's mouth popped off of Rachel's breast and she heaved in a breath, her mouth painted wet red from kisses and overuse. Rachel thought she'd never looked more beautiful, and that was certainly saying something.

"Can I tell you something?" she breathed out, hoarse and heavy, and Rachel squirmed but nodded. "I have no idea what I'm doing." And then she laughed, both nervous and amused.

Rachel couldn't help it. She laughed, too, arching into Quinn and petting her messy hair. "No idea? None?" Quinn shook her head. "Never looked it up? No tutorials from Santana or Brittany over the years?" She giggled.

Quinn shook her head again. "Mm-mm."

"I should've known, Catholic girl," she teased, and Quinn adjusted above her, tossing her bra aside as it slid off her shoulders, and Rachel was momentarily distracted by the most perfect breasts in the world.

Until Quinn spoke playfully, running her hand down Rachel's side, "Maybe you can tell me where exactly the vagina is first, and then we'll work from there." Rachel burst into another laugh, caressing her hair back and biting on her lip to keep from squeaking. "This _is_ the kind of sex where you use a condom, right?"

Rachel mock-gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "Quinn. You used the C word."

"Fuck," Quinn groaned, and then instantly grinned again, and Rachel couldn't stop giggling even when Quinn fixed the positioning of the cross around her neck.

She did sober eventually, as Quinn caressed her cheek, and brushed blonde locks back in turn, smiling happily. "We'll figure it out together."

Quinn reached beyond her and Rachel glanced away for a moment to try and catch what she was doing, only to giggle again when Quinn ran a rose petal over her cheek, up around her forehead, down the other cheek, and then down her nose to her lips. She kissed her, rose petal between them, and then carefully tucked it into Rachel's hair, and smiled serenely.

"Okay."

Rachel beamed, falling back into arousal easily as Quinn sucked her neck again, and found her way down once more, playing at Rachel's breasts – thankfully not for too long, because Rachel had been reminded with her arousal that she was _throbbing_ between her legs, and when Quinn spread her thighs and kissed her folds, she just about screamed.

For not knowing what she was doing, Quinn was amazing. Not that Rachel had any other oral experience to compare it to – Finn only wanted her to blow him, not the other way around – but as far as any sex she'd had, this was the best. She didn't even know what Quinn was doing half the time, only that it felt spectacular, like taking a hot bath after a day of snowball fights and going to watch a Broadway play and singing in front of a packed audience and laying in Quinn's arms and getting something signed by Barbra Streisand all at once – and Quinn wasn't even inside her yet.

She was only kissing Rachel's folds, and licking them, tasting her – and she seemed to like the taste, because underneath Rachel's moans and cries, she felt Quinn's own groan of delight vibrating against her wetness. Then she found Rachel's clit and latched on to the little bud, and though once or twice she pinched a little too hard, she quickly eased off and electric sparks felt like they were bouncing all over Rachel's body, bursting from her core up through her skin and her veins and sending her nipples hard and every hair on her body on end.

And then Quinn's finger probed inside of Rachel, sliding carefully in, touching her walls, exploring her curiously, and Rachel had to think of something else if she was going to keep from coming, and she didn't want to come yet. She wanted Quinn to keep building and building her and she wanted her to stay inside, because Quinn inside felt like all those other things plus arriving at heaven's pearly gates and being serenaded and made to feel like the most special thing in the world by an angel named Quinn.

Rachel had to think of something else. Anything, and while her brain searched for topics, she realized she was gripping Quinn's hair rather tightly and that her heels were digging into Quinn's back, so she tried to focus on being gentler, but then Quinn distracted her – again – sliding another finger in her with the first one and then curling in, and out, deep, and shallow, pushing, and retracting. And all the while she was still touching her inner walls, feeling them, and sucking and licking Rachel's clit, and the faster her fingers went, the closer Rachel came to falling over the edge. Her breaths were mere pants at this point, and though she knew she was still making noises, and plenty of them, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, and it was going a thousand miles per hour.

She glanced down, once, through bleary eyes that wanted badly to be squeezing shut, because trying to see while her body was occupied with euphoria was too much to ask. But she saw Quinn's darkened hazel eyes staring up at her while she laved her tongue over Rachel's clit and drove her fingers inside, and Rachel completely fell apart, well-aware that with the sounds she was making now, she would have to drink a gallon honey and tea in the morning to repair the damage, but not much caring when she felt like she had just won a Tony Award and had an angel named Quinn rewarding her for it, like she was flying higher than the sun, and it was just her and Quinn in the universe, now and forever, and everything was perfect.

Rachel wasn't quite sure how much time had passed by the time she started to come back to reality, to take in the dim candlelit stage again and the spotlights above her. She smelled roses and heard Quinn's steady breathing and felt tears leaking from the corners of her eyes – but she also felt Quinn kissing her neck tenderly, with wet lips, hugging her close, with strong arms, and Rachel smiled and tilted her head to meet Quinn's eyes, as dark and loving as they had been while she was inside of Rachel.

"You're so beautiful," Quinn murmured almost immediately, and Rachel's eyes fluttered for a moment.

"I love you so much."

Quinn smiled, and Rachel felt safer and snugger and happier in that moment than she had since armed men took over Kurt and Blaine's wedding reception.


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Quinn had never felt quite so peaceful in her life. She could almost forget, lying there on a floor of rose petals, spooning Rachel as she dozed in her arms, that Gabriel was still out there somewhere. Waiting, watching for the perfect opportunity. Something he hopefully wouldn't get now that both she and her mother were guarded by police. And Rachel was with her fathers, and right now, she was with Quinn.

Rachel had used her strawberry shampoo again – Quinn could tell, after that headband and bun fell out sometime during their lovemaking, the scent was everywhere, but now that they had rolled around in the rose petals, it was mixed in with their sweet fragrance. Quinn breathed it in like she'd been drowning, nuzzling into Rachel's abundant, soft hair and curling her leg further over Rachel's hip, tucking her in. If heaven was half as good as this, Quinn looked forward to it.

"You smell like roses," she mumbled, smiling to herself and pressing her nose further into beautiful brunette hair.

Rachel giggled a little, stomach quivering under Quinn's hands, before she stretched her legs and moaned, "That was amazing." She sighed, and Quinn's cheeks went hot. "Do you think it'll get better every time? Oh gosh, it's going to be mind blowing when we haven't seen each other for weeks – maybe even a month, or more – in college." She squirmed a little.

Quinn sniffed, scooting herself up to press a kiss against Rachel's temple. "I think practice makes perfect."

Rachel grinned up at her, and they exchanged a few lazy kisses. Quinn couldn't believe how bright her brown eyes were, shining up at her like she hung the stars and the moon and everything else in the universe. She almost seemed aglow with happiness, euphoria. Quinn knew the feeling. She loosened her arms around Rachel as she shifted onto her back and then her side, to face Quinn properly, tracing fingers over Quinn's neck and chest.

"I think I'm still in shock that this is happening," Rachel breathed contentedly, trailing a circle around the point of Quinn's collarbone. "I just made love with Quinn Fabray." She grinned and giggled, cheeks reddening again – but then her eyebrows popped up. "Oh gosh! I didn't – what about you?"

Quinn bit her lip with a laugh. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine. Trust me." She hadn't been able to keep from coming with Rachel, after all, watching her and hearing her scream Quinn's name – so it hadn't been a big orgasm. "Anyway, we have plenty of time for that." She petted Rachel's hair from her face.

She beamed and heaved a contented sigh. "Plenty of time. I'll make it up to you anyway. I'd do it right now even, but I don't think I can move my legs." She giggled, tracing the line of Quinn's jaw. Her eyes brightened more – if that was possible. "Quinn."

She adjusted a bit, nodding. "Mm?"

Rachel shifted herself a bit closer as she said, "I want to be everything to you."

Quinn smiled, her heart thudding as she answered, "You are."

Rachel grinned, and then they were kissing again, lingering and deliberate kisses that lasted so long Quinn wasn't sure when one kiss ended and the next began. And she wasn't sure when they stopped to simply hold each other again, running fingers anywhere and everywhere, memorizing and enjoying each other. She nuzzled her nose lightly against Rachel's, watching it wrinkle up cutely as she smiled.

"I love this," Rachel whispered.

"What?"

She circled her finger around a spot on Quinn's skin, on her chest. "This. This tiny, microscopic freckle."

Quinn laughed, stroking Rachel's hair as she shook her head. "You are so adorable."

Rachel smiled, looping her arm about Quinn's waist and snuggling up to kiss the underside of her jaw and down her neck.

"We should go," Quinn sighed, squeezing Rachel closer.

She shook her head and nipped Quinn's shoulder. "Mm-mm. Never."

"I don't think we'll be very comfortable sleeping on the stage," Quinn pointed out with a chuckle.

"I don't care. I want to stay with you."

"Okay, how about this…you go home," she drawled, putting her finger to Rachel's lips when she opened up to protest. "Get a bath ready, and I'll join you after I clean up here."

Rachel's cheeks flushed, eyes darkening with interest, but she kissed Quinn's finger and took her hand, pressing the pads of their fingers together. "Or, I help you clean up and we go home together."

Quinn chuckled, but shook her head. "This was all for you, you shouldn't have to clean up your own gift."

"I want to help. And I want to be with you as long as I can tonight."

She smiled a little. "Okay."

Quinn dipped her head to peck Rachel's lips, dropping her fingers between Rachel's to squeeze her hand before she reluctantly unwrapped herself from around the little brunette to sit up and find their clothes, freezing when she heard a gasp.

"Quinn! Your tattoo looks nothing like Ryan Seacrest," Rachel scolded sternly – but she could only hold that so long before she burst into giggles, stroking her fingers over the small of Quinn's back.

She relaxed, smiling as she reached for her bra and shirt. "I had it removed shortly after getting it, actually. It was one of my dumber ideas."

"When did you get the gardenia then?" Rachel prompted, and Quinn dropped her hands as she felt Rachel's take over clasping her bra for her.

"Mm, over Christmas break." She pulled on her shirt to start doing up the buttons that were still on it, until she felt Rachel press into her back, and small fingers took over that job, too, as Rachel's chin settled on her shoulder.

"Well, it looks very nice."

Quinn chuckled. "Thank you."

"Why a gardenia?" Rachel kissed her cheek, fixing the collar of her shirt up and then dropping away to find her own clothes.

Quinn pushed herself to her feet, picking up the pink items off the floor, offering Rachel her panties and bra first. "It's my favorite flower."

Rachel stood up and lifted her arms, giggling a bit as Quinn slid the dress back over her head and then buttoned her up once she had her arms in the sleeves. "Oh?"

"Mmhm. Means secret love, you know," she teased and pressed a kiss to Rachel's lips before she went about blowing out the candles.

Rachel hugged her from behind one more time, snuggling up to her ear to say, "I love you."

Quinn smiled, stroking her arms. "I love you, too."

#

After they had swept up all the rose petals, tossed the candles, put up the projection screen and turned everything off in the AV room, and loaded Quinn's car back up with all the various supplies – the Funny Girl DVD, Artie's instrumentals CD, the candle holders, the red carpet, and of course, the popcorn machine (which Rachel couldn't help but ask what on earth Quinn was going to do with now; the response being a grin and "eBay") – they reluctantly went to their separate vehicles to drive back to the Berry house, squad car following close behind.

They giggled all through trying to quietly come in and sneak off to Rachel's room, and then Rachel sent Quinn to draw the bath while she slipped her Funny Girl ticket and a rose petal into her bag of scrapbook items. She made one just about every year, and she had a feeling that this one was going to be the best yet, particularly if she managed to trick Quinn into a few more photo ops. While she was at it, Rachel took the three roses Quinn had sent earlier and put them in a vase and folded her Barbra Streisand outfit back into its white box, tying the ribbon around it again in the same neat fashion Quinn had had it in, and carefully tucked the box away in the upper shelf of her closet.

Satisfied, Rachel shyly stripped off her robe and tossed it to the bed before creeping into the bathroom behind Quinn. She leaned up on her tiptoes to lightly kiss the hollow behind Quinn's ear, giggling when she jumped and turned about – and then her eyes went dark all over again as she took in Rachel's state of undress and growled, "You little minx."

"Oh, did I startle you?" She batted her lashes innocently, but couldn't help a grin, even as Quinn advanced on her, backing her to the wall.

"Startle me, little thing like you?" Quinn shook her head, and Rachel felt a thrill travel up her spine as that eyebrow cocked. "Hardly."

"You are so sexy," Rachel breathed out and immediately blushed all the way from her neck to her cheeks.

Quinn's expression cleared and a laugh burst from her throat, a grin stretching her lips, and Rachel smiled, ducking her head and tugging at those damn buttons.

"You're even sexier when you're naked, though," she continued, clearing her throat.

"Mm, I was beginning to feel overdressed," Quinn hummed at her ear, and Rachel tried not to break anymore buttons off this time when Quinn kissed lazily down her neck.

They made love again in the bathtub, with Quinn behind her this time, curling her fingers up inside and thumbing Rachel's clit while she made marks all over her neck. And then again when they dried off and tumbled into bed, and Quinn used only her mouth that time, slipping her tongue into Rachel and nudging her nose on her clit, scraping her nails over her thighs as she held her still. Rachel might've grown frustrated with Quinn's adamancy on being the one to make her come instead of allowing Rachel a turn – but honestly when she was in such a state of euphoria from having come _three times_ – a record for her, as Finn usually gave her one and then slumped over and went to sleep – she had a hard time being irritated about much of anything.

Rachel fell asleep almost immediately after the third mind-boggling experience, snuggling comfortably in Quinn's arms, and for the first time since she'd been sent out of the Fabray house, she slept peacefully. No nightmares, no tossing and turning, no reaching out for Quinn and not finding her there. It felt perfect.

She woke in the morning with a smile on her face, despite seeing Quinn putting her clothes back on across the room from her, and stretched her whole aching body out. She missed Quinn inside her already.

"Mm, Quinn?"

The blonde head whipped around, and that smile she'd been wearing since last night spread over her face. Quinn's real smile, Rachel realized. Filled with actual happiness, not fake joy or even placating cheerfulness. Not semi-happiness. Real, fulfilled, blissful happiness. It was beautiful.

She slid back up on the bed with that smile, petting Rachel's hair back from her face and resting over her torso on her elbows, kissing her. "I'm so sorry, I have to go. My phone's just about dead from phone calls."

Rachel nodded and pecked her lips again. "It's okay." She smiled. "Will you come back tonight?"

Quinn hummed a yes and nodded. Another peck. "Of course."

"Will you let me actually give _you_ an orgasm tonight?" She grinned impishly, and Quinn laughed.

"If that's what you want," she purred.

"I would like that very much, yes," Rachel teased and laid another soft kiss on Quinn's lips.

It was strange – a good strange, but strange. With Finn, they had had sex for the first time, and then had gone about a month before they did it again. With Quinn, they had already done it three times in one night and now all Rachel wanted to do was explore Quinn's body and have her do the same. She wanted this over and over and over again, whenever she could get it, for however long Quinn would give it to her. It was thrilling.

"Mm, before you go, will you do something for me?" She waggled her eyebrows, eliciting a laugh.

Quinn nodded. "Anything."

"Will you make me breakfast?" Rachel grinned, earning herself another laugh and a kiss.

"What kind of breakfast would you like, my dear?"

Rachel pressed to her lips again. "Hmmm…some…pancakes?"

Another kiss. "Mmhm?"

"And…some of that Indian cream of wheat stuff…"

Another peck. "And?"

Rachel giggled. "And…um…"

"Parfait?" Quinn's eyebrows bobbed playfully as she adopted a lazy accent. "'Everybody likes parfaits. Have you ever met a person, you say "Hey, let's get some parfaits," they say, "Hell no, I don't like no parfait.'"

She could barely answer she was laughing so hard, but she eked out, "Absolutely, a parfait."

Quinn beamed back. "Okay. I'll bring it up to you."

She kissed Rachel one more time and popped off the bed, and Rachel watched her hips swaying all the way to the door, breathing a happy sigh and slumping into her pillows.

#

It was more difficult than Quinn expected to leave Rachel's house, particularly after a lazy breakfast full of kisses and teasing – after all, she knew she was coming back that night to see her. It wasn't forever. But this was different than leaving before, different than leaving anyone she'd ever been with. It was hard to part from Rachel before, but now Quinn was completely tied to her – to her worshipful eyes and her smiles and her _love_.

For the first time, Quinn understood Santana and Brittany. The big production they made whenever they were leaving each other and Santana thought no one was watching. How they couldn't stop touching each other even in front of other people. This wasn't just love from Quinn's end, love she thought was unreturned, this was mutual, it was perfect.

And not even the crossed arms and angry scowls of her parents could ruin it.

"Where have you been all night?" Her mother, as usual, sounded more worried than angry. "I called and called, we checked your room, I called some of your friends – no one knew where you were! What happened? Why didn't you answer?"

Quinn slipped her shoes off and hung her purse up on the coat rack, simply smiling to herself. "The police followed me, no worries," she hummed.

"No worries?" Her father shook his head. "What do you think is going on here, Quinn? That you're going to be scolded for being out all night and grounded? That man is out there – "

"Let me stop you there. First of all, I'm eighteen years old, neither of you has the authority to ground me at this point, especially you," she said cheerfully. "Second, I have a police escort. You should be the most secure parents in the world." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Quinn, I realize that you're a grown woman who can make your own decisions, but with him…out there, looking for you. I just would've preferred if you had left a note, or…or called me back, something," Mom begged quietly, and Quinn softened.

She stepped over to kiss her mom's cheek, and the look of surprise she received in response only widened her smile. "I'm sorry. Next time, I'll text you." She took a breath, thinking. "Actually, if I'm not home in the morning for the rest of the summer, I wouldn't worry about it."

"Do you think you can just gallivant all over town and that'll be okay with us?" her father asked, scoffing.

"Again, not your call. Besides, I'm not going all over town, I'll be with Rachel," Quinn retorted, lifting her chin, and she took a perverse sort of pleasure in the way he stiffened up. She smiled to her mother when he looked away. "I'll be upstairs."

And up she pranced, a bounce in her step as she went to do her usual workout and shower, and afterward, refreshed Rachel's MySpace page until she uploaded I Wanna Be With You. Quinn grinned the whole way through, and each time she replayed it through the rest of the day, until she could take off to see Rachel again.

#

The next few nights were filled with the same bliss. In fact, they were so happy that even the days didn't seem so bad, particularly since now, Quinn would actually text her. She even sent the first one that Sunday, simply reading, 'I miss you.' Rachel was in the heaven that was Quinn expressing herself, opening up to her, and it was perfect.

They even flirted via text during the day, between nights of Quinn coming over late and tussling between Rachel's sheets with her, like on Monday when Quinn sent, 'I miss your thighs.'

Rachel blushed immediately, sitting across the table from Tina at the Lima Bean, but typed back, 'Just my thighs?'

'And what's between them. But right now, yes, specifically your thighs.'

'And what are you thinking about my thighs?'

'I'm thinking about licking whipped cream off of them.'

Rachel's eyebrows popped up, biting her lip to keep from smiling. 'You want to lick a dairy product off of me?'

'Soy whipped cream.'

She grinned and squirmed. 'I love it when you talk vegan to me.'

'Tofu bacon.'

Rachel could help it – she squeaked, but when Tina asked if she was okay, she only waved her free hand and hurried to respond, 'Ooh, baby.'

'Rice milk chocolate.'

'You're making me hungry.'

'Good thing you're at the Lima Bean.'

Rachel nearly jumped out of her chair, glancing around, but she saw no blonde heads. 'Where are you?!'

'Bathroom.'

Rachel excused herself instantly. They then spent a good half hour making out in the bathroom against the locked door.

Other days were less exciting. Sunday and Tuesday they didn't see each other until it was dark again, but still, with texting and night-meetings, the days were long, filled with anticipation, but they were happy. Rachel went about her vocal and dance practices with gusto and spent an extra half hour on her elliptical machine each morning to keep her body looking good for Quinn, and in between all that, she scrapbooked and planned for the fall, marking off places for them to visit first in New Haven and New York – they ought to get the touristy stuff out of the way first, she'd decided.

And then at night she prepared for Quinn, and Quinn was absolutely right – practice did make perfect. Each time seemed to get better and better, though Rachel personally thought she had a lot more work to do on her lovemaking skills than Quinn did, despite Quinn's protests on the contrary. But at least she was growing familiar with that beautiful body, just as Quinn was growing familiar with hers. And Rachel never knew there were so many positions to try.

Sunday night they'd mainly stayed missionary, since Rachel was insistent on making Quinn come, and she wasn't exactly experienced in lesbian sex, either. Quinn was a quiet lover, too, which Rachel had expected, but it didn't necessarily help her confidence when she was thrusting into her with two fingers and kissing her pink nipples – it was better when Quinn came, for she'd moan Rachel's name with abandon and Rachel could feel proud, almost triumphant at the noises she managed to pull from Quinn then.

But on Monday night, Quinn went on her knees and hooked Rachel's leg over her shoulder where she leaned against the wall and ate her out with gusto. Then she laid Rachel on her stomach on the bed and played with her ass – nipping and squeezing – while she drove her fingers between her thighs and Rachel lifted her hips up for more while she hugged onto the sheets and her pillows for dear life. And _then_ Quinn straddled her face to allow her a turn at last. Tuesday night brought Rachel riding Quinn's fingers while she sucked on her breasts, and then Quinn stretched over her body, straddling her face, and opening her thighs, and they ate each other out at once.

It wasn't all sex, though. They couldn't stop from touching each other, but it all stemmed, in Rachel's personal opinion, from being crazy about each other. Each time they laid in bed and talked and giggled they wound up kissing – because Quinn said something sweet or Rachel said something cute or just because they were happy together. And Quinn could be very silly when she was happy, so silly that once, despite trying to muffle it under the sheets and her hands, Rachel laughed so hard at Quinn pretending to put on goggles and a snorkel before she went under the covers to find a lost sock that her dad popped his head in. They both froze then, horrified, until he only grinned, winked, and called out, "She's just watching cat videos again!" before he shut the door.

And everything was perfect for those few days and nights, until Wednesday.

#

Things with Quinn's father had not improved in the least since Quinn had started spending her nights with Rachel. He and Mom had gone off to church on Sunday, but in the evening, it was like she was fourteen again, because he turned the TV on and sat in that angry silence of his, and her mother sat straight, staring forward with her hands in her lap. Quinn understood the feeling, but for once, she didn't bow to it. She just pulled out her newspaper puzzles with a smile, jotting little hearts around the edges of the paper, and even hummed to herself now and then.

And on Monday, when Quinn encountered him sitting with his work laptop in the living room, she just sat and ate her bagel with a smirk while he typed silently away, until it was time for lunch with Santana and Brittany – they had decided to make it a weekly thing until the summer ended. Dinner on both Monday and Tuesday was tense, to say the least, too, though Tuesday Quinn had spent out shopping, looking for trinkets to favor her lady with and new buttons for her ruined shirts, so she didn't see him at the house.

By Wednesday's dinner, she knew that both her mother and father were planning on talking to her. Perhaps not intentionally together. Her father was markedly sterner about the process of cutting up his steak than Mom was. In fact, her mom looked more nervous than anything – almost blushing through dinner. That was far more frightening than the sternness, however, because it occurred to Quinn that her mother might very well be intending on giving her a _sex talk_.

It was this thought that led her to rush through her dinner and try to escape upstairs watch more of Rachel's performances of I Wanna Be With You, Break of Dawn, The Best Thing, and today's recent upload of her playful performance of Answer the Phone before she went over to Rachel's for another night of lovemaking and talking.

Her parents, unfortunately, were having none of that.

"Why don't you join us for tonight? We've missed your company," her mom asked sweetly.

"Please do," her father added.

So, with a sigh, Quinn perched herself on the edge of the armchair and watched them warily, waiting for them to try to break her bubble with a sex talk and whatever her father wanted to say – nothing good, she was sure.

"Quinn," her father started.

Thank God, sex talk delayed.

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"This…relationship of yours is…" He struggled, folding his hands together.

Quinn glanced to her curious-looking mother and back to him. "An abomination? Blasphemy? Sacrilege? You have options."

He scowled at her. "It's distracting you from the danger you're in. You're taking risks, going to see her every night, exposing yourself to him – "

"I have a police escort," she pointed out again, and he sighed.

"Mistakes can still be made. You're not thinking logically, she's got you mixed up – "

"She's got me _happy_."

He shook his head. "You still need to use your head. For your sake _and_ hers."

She scoffed. "Don't pretend you care about her."

"You care about her." He opened his palms briefly and shrugged. "Right? So protect her."

"I am. I'm just not making her miserable while I'm doing it – or me, for that matter. And frankly, our relationship is none of your business. And neither is how I handle it, and – "

The landline rang, and Quinn halted, breathing an annoyed sigh. Her mother started, but she raised a hand.

"Please. Let me get it." She stalked across the room away from the source of her aggravation and swiped up the phone, scowling briefly at her father as she answered, "Hello?"

"Hello, darling," a smooth voice purred.

Her blood ran cold.

"I'm sorry I've not been in touch recently, but you see, it's a very time consuming task, planning and observing and all that, dodging your police on top of it. Besides, I've been thinking. How much does _Daddy_ mean to you? See, I feel at this point as if I would be doing you a favor if I simply shot him right now – "

"DOWN!" Quinn whirled to her mother and father, almost dropping the phone in the process. "Get down, get down now."

They jumped, bewildered, but quickly obeyed while Quinn crouched by the phone's stand.

"Now, now, there's no need to panic, Queen Quinn. I've not seen you so flighty in days, my goodness. You _have_ been getting comfortable, haven't you?"

Quinn swallowed, her heart thumped in her ears. "Where are you?"

"Oh, don't worry, darling, you'll be seeing me soon enough. See, my plan is about to take off and it's going to be rather splendid, I do hope you enjoy it. Anyway, I must be off, lots to do. Ta-ta, Queen Quinn."

The dial tone blared in her ear, and Quinn dropped the phone.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Quinn tried to leave the house several times as the house swarmed with more and more cops. They were everywhere. On the lawn, in the backyard, looking into neighbors' homes and questioning them over whether they'd seen anyone, seen a blue car, heard any disturbances. And they were questioning the Fabrays, as well, and repeatedly telling Quinn that she had to stay just a little bit longer. Anderson at least showed up and promised to send a squad car around the Berry house to be sure nothing seemed amiss.

Commissioner Ryder showed up after about an hour, while Quinn was in the middle of pacing the living room carpet and her parents were talking to Cooper about what happened.

Quinn practically leapt on him. "Did you find him?"

Ryder shook his head. "No sign, I'm sorry."

For a moment, she wanted to slap him, scream at him, whip out his own gun and smack him upside the head with it – but it wasn't his fault. Not really. So she stepped back, took a deep breath, and narrowed her eyes on him.

"Can I go now?"

Ryder glanced at Cooper, who shrugged his shoulders. "Where are you planning on going?"

Quinn gritted her teeth. "To get my girlfriend and her fathers, I want them here, I want them protected, since none of you seem eager to do your goddamn jobs."

"Hold on, hold on here," he interrupted, briefly gripping her arm as she tried to slip past him. "It might not actually be a bad idea for the three of you to stay somewhere else tonight."

Quinn paused then, folding her arms, but stepping further into the living room.

"Why? Do you think he's going to come back?" Her mother's fingers were fidgeting.

"He said his plan is about to take off, right?" Ryder glanced at Quinn; she nodded. "He's used explosives before, so what we need to do is sweep this house, top to bottom, and it might be better to have you placed elsewhere. If it comes back clean, you can come back tomorrow, but in the meantime, if you have a place to go – "

"I've been here the last week, all the time, there's no way he could get in to place explosives without me noticing something," her father cut in, shaking his head.

"Yes, he could. I slipped in the other day. Friday. You didn't know I was here," Quinn retorted, and her father fell silent.

Ryder glanced between them. "Okay, so, grab what you need, we'll escort you to your girlfriend's and we'll place guards inside and out. Cooper, I want you and Anderson on it."

Cooper's mouth twitched into something unpleasant, but he nodded and went for the front door to retrieve his partner, and Quinn just caught him muttering, "Guarding a bunch of fags, great."

She opened her mouth, to whirl on him, to hiss at him, but Ryder beat her to it.

"Excuse me, Officer. What was that?" His face had gone hard.

Cooper stopped and straightened. "Nothing, sir."

"Out. You're suspended until further notice."

He gaped. "What? I didn't – "

"This is not the first time you've made comments that are not in line with your job," Ryder snapped. "It's officers like you that make it impossible for this department to keep things like this from happening, so I want you out. I want you out of the investigation and out of our way, until you can get it straight that our job is to protect civilians – whether you agree with their lifestyle or not. _Out_."

Cooper started, gritting his teeth, and Quinn glowered up at him, eyebrow rising. He struggled for a moment or two more, glancing between all of them, at her parents and at her and at his stoic commissioner, and finally he stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. A lamp rattled on its stand. Ryder sighed.

"I'm sorry about that. Okay. Get your things together; we'll take you in twenty minutes."

Her mother seemed frozen to the spot, so Quinn grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs to her bedroom, and the moment she took out her mom's suitcase, she finally flew into action. Quinn sped across the hallway once she was sure her mother was on top of things again, pulling a few things together in her duffel bag. Shirt, pants, underwear, bra, pajamas – two of each. They didn't know what the results of the cops' sweep would be. They could be staying at the Berry's for some time.

With that in mind, Quinn grabbed a few keepsakes to tuck in her bag with the necessities, but she was still finished long before the twenty minutes were up. She had had practice with gathering all of her important belongings into one bag before, first with her father, then from Finn's, then from Puck's, then from Mercedes'. Not that the last two were exactly rushing her out the door, but Quinn had gotten better at it with time.

Once her mother had collected her necessary items and her father grabbed his suitcase, the three of them were ushered into the backseat of a squad car with Anderson and Ryder in the front, Mom in the middle, thankfully. Quinn supplied the address and Ryder repeated it over the radio, and off they went: one car in front and one behind them. Mom found her hand about halfway to the Berry home, squeezing so tightly it pinched, but Quinn only stroked her thumb gently and stared out the window until they were at the curb outside Rachel's house.

"Wherever you go from now on, your guards will go in first and scope out the place," Ryder explained as an officer from each car hopped out and went up to the house. "That goes for all of you."

Quinn dug for her phone from her pocket as she spied one of the Berry men open the door to the officers, typing quickly, 'Don't be scared. I'll explain everything in a minute.'

They sat in silence then, until one of the officers gave a signal out the door, and Ryder stepped out. "Let's go."

Quinn practically jumped out of the car, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder and before she got halfway to the house, Rachel appeared on the porch and came running down the steps to meet her with just about the tightest hug Quinn had ever received. But she didn't mind in the least. She scooped her arms around Rachel's waist and squeezed her back just as closely, breathing in her strawberry hair and rocking her back and forth.

"What's happening? They said you were in danger, and then your text, I – " Rachel pulled back enough to settle on her heels, and Quinn cupped her chin.

"Gabriel called the house."

Even in the dark of the evening, Quinn could see Rachel's face go stark white. She stroked her cheeks swiftly, trying to soothe her, but Rachel's breathing still picked up.

"He made some threats; they want us to stay here for the night. If that's okay. Or we can go to Santana's, or – "

"No, no, you're staying _here_," Rachel protested, holding her face.

Quinn just nodded, stroking Rachel's forearms up and down and holding her gaze until Ryder cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to get you inside," he said politely.

Quinn dipped her head to kiss Rachel's forehead and took her hand, nodding up to Ryder as they headed back inside to sit with the rest of them in the basement. It was an odd collection of people. Leroy and Hiram fussing around, serving tea in their pajamas, and her father standing rigid by the couch. Mom sitting on the edge of a cushion, rubbing her head with a shaky hand. Ryder sitting next to her, laying out the situation for everyone and the plans for their protection while he sipped his tea. Anderson standing nearby, half-smiling, uncertain when Quinn looked over at him. And of course, Rachel hugging onto Quinn like a body pillow, breathing shakily against her chest.

Every now and then, Quinn heard a footstep or two above them, their guards moving around and checking out the area, as Ryder had explained they'd be doing. They needed to know the territory they were protecting, he'd said. It made sense, and Quinn could only hope they'd be assigning new guards who knew the Fabray house when they were allowed to go back home. Or at least, when her parents went back home. Now that she was in Rachel's grasp, Quinn wasn't so sure she'd be very eager to let go – and neither was Quinn.

Ryder and their parents spoke long into the night, about what they'd learned about Gabriel and the plans. They hadn't learned much, if anything. There had been a few call-ins about possible sightings of him, but each time they followed up it was a false lead, or Gabriel never came back to the area. Joseph S. Perros was definitely an assumed name, they now knew, just like Gabriel – the address he'd used was bogus as well, and the phone number he'd listed, along with the one he'd called from, traced back to disposable cell phones. They didn't have a license plate number or a positive make or model on the blue car, so that had ultimately gone nowhere as well.

But they knew he was planning to strike, and they knew he would probably be striking at Quinn's family, given the fact that he had gone after Beth and had mentioned her father on the phone. So they were keeping them guarded at all times, two guards for each family member still in town, and they would be keeping them at the Berry house until they knew the Fabray house was clear of explosives or anything else Gabriel might've set. And then, they would wait.

Ryder finished a third cup of tea before he left Anderson and the rest of his officers in charge, and sleeping arrangements were figured out swiftly – Leroy and Hiram would stay in their master bedroom, but Mom would get the guest room. Her father agreed to sleep on the couch in the basement, and of course, Quinn would be joining Rachel. They were all wary about leaving the room, however, and so it was another half hour of sitting while Hiram tried to calm her mom with idle chatter about dinner and tea and things, and Leroy tried to talk to her father about anything at all. And Rachel held onto Quinn.

Finally, her father went off to change into something suitable for sleep, and Hiram coaxed Mom upstairs to do the same, so Rachel and Quinn retreated into her bedroom, closed the shades and the door, and Quinn changed into sleep shorts and a t-shirt before dropping into bed next to Rachel, hugging her close once more. Rachel shuddered as she let out a breath, clinging to Quinn's neck and kissing her over and over.

"I was beginning to hope…that he would just go away," she sighed against Quinn's throat. "That he was giving up."

Quinn stroked her hair. "I know."

Rachel leaned back suddenly, peering at her tearfully. "If something happens to you – "

"It won't." Quinn kissed her to hush her, gently. "He made a mistake by calling. He had to brag and try to spook me and by doing that, he warned us. He prepared us."

Rachel nodded, albeit a little shakily. "What scares me is…what if that's exactly what he wants?"

She sighed and pursed her lips, thinking. "Then we'll deal with it."

Rachel bit her lip and snuggled up closer again, petting Quinn's neck and hair. "Ryder said he made a threat toward Mr. Fabray…"

Quinn nodded. "He asked…how much he means to me. If he'd be doing me a favor by shooting him."

She squeezed Quinn's shoulder, kissing her jaw.

"It made me realize…when he said it…" Quinn cleared her throat, shifting to look at Rachel's understanding, earnest eyes. "I was afraid for a minute. I don't want him to die." She tucked her lip between her teeth. "That's something, right?"

Rachel nodded. "It is."

"And he doesn't want me to die, either. At least, that's what he said."

"Of course he doesn't," Rachel cooed, tracing Quinn's brow for a moment. "And maybe that's enough for right now? That you care enough about each other to care whether the other lives or dies, that's…"

Quinn smiled a little. "It's fine for now. And he didn't…make a fuss about coming here, so I guess… You know, I guess it's good enough for now."

Rachel kissed her lightly. "I know this is a completely selfish subject change, but I really like it when you talk things through with me." She grinned, almost impishly, and Quinn couldn't help but laugh and kiss her again, long and lingering this time.

#

Despite the comfort of being with Rachel, of knowing she was safe – and that her mom and Leroy and Hiram and her father were safe – it was difficult to fall asleep that night. Quinn was sure it was difficult for everyone, though; in fact, she could almost feel it. The silent awake-ness of the house. Like they were all lying there in unison, listening to the guards' occasional steps, to crickets chirping outside, the spontaneous car driving by or the bark of a dog. Just waiting.

It was like that in the morning, too. The silver touch of light through the closed and curtain-covered windows making their steps even quieter, as Quinn dressed and padded down the stairs to find Leroy and her father already there. Her father was reading the sports section of the paper across from Leroy at the breakfast table, while Leroy read the front page and kept an idle eye on pancakes on the stove and muffins in the oven.

Quinn poured herself some coffee and sat with them, taking the puzzles out to work on, glancing out the window now and then. Hiram was the first of the other three to appear, still in his pajamas but uncharacteristically quiet. Quinn was used to seeing him bouncing, smiling – even hearing him hum and sing in the mornings if she was a little late getting out of Rachel's bed. But today he just smiled and sat sedately, stealing the Lifestyle section.

Her mother looked just as harried as she had the previous night when she appeared, only now there were dark circles under her eyes along with the pinched corners of her mouth and the tight strain in her face. Rachel, too, was sedated, though she sat on Quinn's lap the moment she appeared and helped her almost silently with the crossword puzzle.

Quinn enjoyed silence, most of the time. A breezy summer day, lying on her back in freshly mowed grass, watching fluffy clouds pass overhead. She liked that. A cold winter morning, trekking through untouched new snow, breathing in crisp air. She liked that, too. Or just sitting in her room, reading. She loved that.

This wasn't that kind of silence, though. Not at all. It was an on edge silence, the kind that made them tiptoe around the kitchen and pass plates of pancakes and jelly-filled muffins and knives and margarine across the table with polite, tight smiles and immediate apologies if their silverware scraped the plate with even a little noise. It reminded Quinn of when her father was angry, back when silence was the only acceptable answer, only even he was tiptoeing now. But she still felt like she might throw up or scream at any moment, and she was beginning to think everyone felt that way, given how little they all ate.

Hiram wound up offering the rest of the muffins to their very grateful guards before he went up to change for work, and it was only when he came back that anyone spoke any louder than a whisper.

"God," Mom muttered, and Quinn reflexively reached out to touch her arm.

"What's wrong?"

"We left the cars at the house," she answered, shaking her head with a sigh. "I hope they're willing to offer a ride, otherwise I'm going to be late for work."

Her father set down his section of the newspaper then. "I'll be going with you."

"Russell, I'm sure you have work – "

"It can wait. I'll come with you and then I'll go see some friends downtown. All right? I'll stay out of your way."

Mom nodded after a moment and squeezed Quinn's hand before she stood, straightening her dress. "Well, we'd better be off then."

She leaned to kiss Quinn's and then Rachel's cheek, wishing them and the Berry men a good day before her father trailed her out to the squad cars, four of the guards going out with them. Leroy and Hiram left shortly afterward, leaving Quinn and Rachel to clean up after breakfast. Once they had all the dishes cleaned up and put away, they snuggled up on the couch under a blanket together to have a musical movie marathon, starting back at The Wizard of Oz to work their way up to the most recent Footloose.

Though they spent much of their day cuddling and touching as always, the occasional intrusions of the guards and the still-present tension kept them from engaging in any more intimate activities. Quinn at times wished they could, knowing it would be comforting and freeing, but it was also enough to be tender with Rachel. To innocently kiss her neck and rub her stomach or her feet, and to have Rachel stroking fingers through her hair and massaging her shoulders, kissing her chest. It was calming, this exchange of delicate touches, and for long stretches at a time throughout the day, Quinn could forget the looming threat. At least when the guards weren't peeking in on them, or informing them that she could return to the Fabray house that night if she so chose. Rachel, as expected, was rather against that idea, and Quinn didn't argue.

#

Judy had spent the entire day on edge. Even with two police officers standing ready, to swoop in at a moment's notice – or maybe it was their very presence that was throwing Judy off. Seeing armed uniforms everywhere she turned simply reminded her of the danger surrounding her precious youngest daughter. She wished she had thought to take the day off, to stay with Quinn instead, but at least she was with Rachel and a pair of police officers of her own. So there was no need to worry.

She did anyway. And it made for a hell of a day. Immediately upon arriving at work, she wound up spilling her coffee all over her dress. Fortunately, Jan, her assistant, was just about the fastest woman in the world and had a new dress back to the office in a half hour. But she couldn't come to Judy's rescue every time, and mistakes in her work were far more catastrophic.

She called the wrong client while looking at the wrong papers. She set up a catering service for an event that didn't require one. She ordered black designs for a wedding party. The list seemed to go on and on, and though in the afternoon, one of the officers gave her the good news that her house was safe to return to, it was too little, too late. She ended up staying far past her usual hours, fixing all the mistakes she had made for herself and cleaning up her desk.

Judy felt lucky that her boss understood. She'd even offered for Judy to go home, but she preferred to fix the mistakes herself, to go home on a positive note. Not that she'd be staying at her own house long. She had a mother's inclination that Quinn would be staying with the Berrys, and so she intended on going to get her work laptop and a few other things she'd forgotten from the house and going back to the Berry house.

Leroy and Hiram were such pleasant men, so eager to make her feel comfortable. Their guest room was like a bed and breakfast. There were fresh, pristine white towels, potpourri baskets, flowers in vases, fluffy pillows and extra blankets, even comforting framed paintings on the wall and a bowl of mints by the bed. _Mints_. They were lovely men. So she didn't mind staying with them one bit, and she knew they didn't mind entertaining her or her daughter, either.

Russell was a different story. As difficult a man as he could be, Judy could see that he really was trying. He'd apologized for cheating on her, taking responsibility for the end of their marriage and the distance he'd created between him and Quinn. The problem was that, while it seemed easy enough for him to apologize to _her_, he had yet to do the same with Quinn. Judy supposed it was his pride. Each time he tried with Quinn, she put up resistance, just like he did when someone had hurt him – so his reaction was to get defensive right back. It was a cycle that badly needed broken.

Judy had tried to talk to him about it, more than once, to remind him that Quinn had a right to be angry and he needed to let her express it without reacting and upsetting her more. He would agree at the time they spoke about it, and then instantly do the wrong thing the next time he had a verbal tussle with Quinn.

She could only hope that either this catastrophe they were in the midst of would fix his behavior, or that it would end soon and he would go back to Colorado with their other daughter, the one who somehow understood his behavior. Judy certainly couldn't most of the time.

"Wait out here, we'll check out the place," one of the officers said presently, and Judy only nodded, clasping her hands together in front of her and waiting in the glow of the garage light.

Judy had to admit to herself, of course, that she wasn't really helping things when she agreed to let Russell stay at the house, but a part of her still felt safer with a man there. It was old-fashioned and silly, she knew. But it was also hard to break a habit, one ingrained from her youth – men were stronger, better somehow –

Without so much as a blur of movement or a whisper of sound, something lashed around her neck. Judy gasped, gripping for the string, the wire, whatever it was – it was cold and harsh, digging into her throat, just below her thyroid, and she choked on the breath that was trying to escape as her eyes bulged and she tried to get a hold on the wire, but the harder she dug beneath it, scraped her nails at her own skin, the harder it squeezed and then she heard a murmur in her ear, "Hello, Mommy-dearest. Hush now. We don't want to alarm anyone, do we? Over here."

There was a yank on the wire, and Judy stumbled backward into a solid body. Gabriel. He steered her by the neck, into the bushes by the garage. Her very own bushes that she had tended to and cultivated to the magnificent height and thick greenness that they were now. He pushed her face against the siding and she felt spit creep down the corner of her mouth. She coughed, or tried to, but the wire was unforgiving. Not a breath made its way past her lips.

"Shh, it'll be over soon," he coaxed, and she struggled to get his lips off her ear, to get away from him, but he was too strong. He held her still with his body, flattening her against the wall of her own house while he strangled her with the wire.

Her head was starting to feel light, but she heard one of the officers calling, "Ms. Lester?"

Judy strained, tried to gather breath to call for them, to make any kind of noise that would alert them. She choked, but it wasn't loud enough. She tried to cough, but there was nothing to cough. Something warm was running down her neck. She was going to die.


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

The trip to the hospital was made even faster than when Noah had called about Shelby and Beth, thanks to the police escort sending cars out of the way with its blazing sirens. The red and blue lights lit up Quinn's ghostly face next to her, over and over, and Rachel gripped onto her hand as tightly as she dared. The guards had burst into Rachel's bedroom after a quiet dinner with her fathers and Mr. Fabray, saying one thing and one thing only: Judy had been attacked.

Quinn hadn't even bothered to change out of her tank top and sleep shorts, or to put on a coat. She just ran and yanked on boots, and Rachel followed after her as quickly as her short legs would allow. Their fathers were coming more slowly in the car, having stopped to change back into their everyday wear, at least.

Rachel wasn't sure what to do for Quinn. Or for herself. There was a painful yank of panic on her stomach at the idea of losing Judy, kind and understanding Judy – it would be like losing Mr. Hummel all over again, in a way. Another wonderful parent she'd become attached to and admired for their devotion to their child. So she couldn't imagine how Quinn was feeling. She'd almost lost her daughter once, now to almost lose her mother? The parent she trusted, the parent who had come back and taken care of her in her darkest hours.

Rachel rubbed the goose bumps on Quinn's arms and thighs, though she knew they likely had very little to do with the cold. She just didn't know what else to do. Quinn kissed her cheek in response, after a start, and then they leaned foreheads together until the car came to a jerking halt and burst out. The two guards helped them through the crowd in the ER and up to the second floor until they reached Commissioner Ryder and another officer outside of a hospital room. Quinn practically lunged at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!"

Rachel grabbed onto her arm, kissing her shoulder a bit frantically, while Commissioner Ryder stared wide-eyed at the enraged blonde.

"And where the HELL were your guards when it did?!"

"Quinn, shh," Rachel soothed, hugging her about the waist. Quinn's frame loosened, if only a little bit.

Commissioner Ryder sighed, waving away the officer and setting his hands on his hips. "From what we got out of one of the neighbors, Garrison and Lee must've checking out the inside of the house before she went in and he nabbed her, pulled her into those hedges by your garage, used her as a shield when they came back out and shot both of them, dropped her and took the keys and the squad car. We're waiting for Lee to wake up; Garrison was DOA."

Rachel felt Quinn fume, her back muscles bundling up. "_What about my mother_?"

Commissioner Ryder hesitated. "She was strangled – but – "

Quinn's entire weight seemed to collapse, and Rachel gripped her tighter, trying her damndest to keep her up as she kissed the back of her neck and blinked back tears.

"She's alive. The wire he used cut her neck, but paramedics resuscitated her on the scene and she's doing okay now, from what the doc said. We're waiting for a statement from her as well."

Rachel closed her eyes in relief, feeling Quinn practically collapse all over again, but then she seemed to gather herself and pulled Rachel past the commissioner and into the room. Judy's mouth was covered up by an oxygen mask, and her neck was wrapped thick with white bandages. But she sat up when Quinn and Rachel came in, and Rachel thought Quinn would've dropped at her feet if she'd been standing. Instead she went to her knees next to the hospital bed, grabbing her mother around the waist and hugging onto her for dear life, sobbing against the sheets. Judy stroked Quinn's hair gently, waving her free hand to Rachel. She smiled a little and shut the door after herself, stepping around the other side of the bed to give Judy a kiss on the cheek, narrowly avoiding the string of the oxygen mask, before she pulled up a chair.

Judy lowered the mask after a few moments of letting Quinn cleanse the fear and the anxiety and the despair, saying weakly, "I'm all right, darling."

Quinn shook her head against her mother's stomach and reached for Rachel's hand. She gripped Quinn's fingers quickly, scooting her chair closer, and the three of them sat there like that until Rachel's dads and Mr. Fabray came in. Dad and Papa hugged Judy so tightly Rachel worried they were going to wind up making her grab for that oxygen mask all over again, but she just smiled and reassured them that she was all right. Mr. Fabray kissed her head and held her, and Rachel glanced to Quinn worriedly, but she just sat on the arm of Rachel's chair and stared down at their fingers together.

"I never realized how incompetent the LPD was until now," Mr. Fabray grumbled once he straightened, and Papa nodded his agreement.

Quinn tensed up.

"The commissioner seems to be trying his best," Dad interjected, sitting himself on the couch by the window.

Mr. Fabray scowled. "His best isn't good enough, and with officers as stupid as these – "

"Please," Judy strained hoarsely. "Let's not…"

Mr. Fabray softened and sat himself down in another chair. Quinn let out a breath next to her and rubbed her forehead. Rachel squeezed Quinn's hand reassuringly, kissing her fingers. Papa sighed.

"I'll go get us all some coffee, yes?"

"Please. You don't…all have to stay. I'm sure you…have work," Judy wheezed.

"We'll call in," Dad piped up.

Judy smiled, but shook her head. "You don't have to – "

"Sure we do," Papa said.

Dad nodded. "We're practically family."

At Judy's smile, Papa slipped out of the room and Rachel stood to let Quinn sink into the chair, settling up on her lap instead. Mr. Fabray fiddled with the lapel of his summer jacket, watching them cuddle up together and then looking to Judy. Quinn, too, was rather busy staring at her mom.

"I'm really all right," Judy said at length, smiling to either side of her. "I feel better now, I promise you."

"You almost died, that's not all right," Quinn said, and Rachel jumped at the sound of her voice. She'd hardly said anything all day, and she'd said _nothing_ since they heard that Judy was attacked.

Judy heaved a weak sigh. "Let's just watch something, mm? Take our minds off of it."

So she turned on the TV, flipping away from a news station to settle on Food Network. Dad scooted up to the edge of the couch to see better, and they all fell silent. Even Mr. Fabray pretended interest in the screen and the white-haired chef cooking away. Rachel was more interested in watching Quinn, sitting on her lap with her arms looped around her neck. There was a new strain in her face, one that Rachel had never seen before, but she knew why.

Judy had actually been hurt. She had been caught, strangled, and left for dead. When they went to the hospital for Beth and Shelby, Beth was fine. Only a little bruise. Gabriel had come closer than ever this time, closer to taking away someone Quinn loved deeply, and Rachel wasn't sure Quinn would make it through another loss like that. Especially not her mother.

Quinn already ached over Mercedes every day. Even if she didn't show it or say it that day, it was clear, at least to Rachel, from the black clothing she wore, and though with their newfound bliss it had become less common, there was always some item of black clothing to signify her sadness at the loss of her friend. A neckerchief, her tights, her skirt. Always something.

What would she do if her mother had died? Or if Gabriel came after her again and succeeded the next time? Rachel hated to admit it, but Mr. Fabray and her papa were right. The police were incompetent, at least against this maniac. Gabriel had already slipped into the hospital and attacked Kurt once, without their notice, and now he had snagged Judy right under the cops' noses and even killed one of them. Even if it was cops like Cooper creating this inability to keep up with Gabriel or to prevent him from attacking, because they just didn't care to protect 'fags' or whatever, and not just incompetency, it had the same result.

Rachel would just fall apart if she lost Quinn. She just didn't know what to do about Gabriel either.

Thinking about it was making the yanking in her stomach pick up even more, though, so she just snuggled into Quinn's neck and tried to just enjoy those arms around her and appreciate the fact that Judy was still alive, and Quinn was right there, safe in her arms. Quinn, for her part, seemed soothed by Rachel's closeness, so she nuzzled all the closer while she listened to a loudmouthed chef babble instructions over the sounds of steaming and sizzling food.

#

Just about everyone had fallen asleep, except for Quinn. Rachel was curled up on the couch Hiram and Leroy vacated when they went home, yawning and weaving into each other, covered in the warm blanket Quinn had requested from a nurse. Her father was snoring with his neck uncomfortably bent over the back of his chair, legs stretched far out. And Mom had fallen asleep long before Leroy and Hiram even left.

Quinn sighed to herself, watching her chest rise and fall, lift and drop, and watching the steam of her breath fog the oxygen mask steadily. It was reassuring, the steady rhythm, calm, even breaths not hauled or dragged or sucked painfully in. No choking or coughing. Just easy breathing, with no grimaces – save when she moved her head, or when she had talked earlier. It put an ache in Quinn's heart, the idea of her mother in pain. And thinking perhaps she had died earlier on, when the guards didn't tell them anything but that her mother was attacked…

In some ways it was like hearing that Beth had been attacked. Sharp, painful, panicking. She'd had to get there _right now_, circumstances be damned, to see that she was all right and alive and well. The difference was that when she saw her mother lying there in a hospital bed, bandaged and being aided in catching her breath with an oxygen mask – she'd felt no shame in the way she'd crumpled up and cried on her like a little girl, like she would've with Beth. She had to comfort and protect Beth, and her mother had to comfort and protect Quinn. So she'd sobbed her heart out until they – she, Mom, and Rachel – weren't alone anymore.

And now she was exhausted. Exhausted thinking about how she'd almost lost her daughter and her mother. About how she had lost her best friend. About who was next, what Gabriel's next step would be. But she didn't dare sleep for that very reason. She had a feeling that was why her father stayed. He hated hospitals, but the police couldn't do their jobs, so they had to. They had to protect her mother.

So it was with bleary eyes that Quinn welcomed Leroy and Hiram in around nine and took the coffee and bagel they offered her. Her father stirred immediately at the noises and brightened at the sign of coffee, food, and his newspaper, and while Quinn drank down the caffeine, Leroy and her father wound up discussing the sports news, and Hiram gently woke Rachel to eat. They all left her mother be for the time being and ate a quiet breakfast – Rachel sleepily crawled into Quinn's lap again to eat hers – until Mom woke and then Hiram entertained everyone with his joviality and particularly his impression of the celebrity chef they'd all been staring at last night. Even her father seemed amused.

Quinn felt particularly serene watching both her mother and Rachel filled with mirth, happy and laughing and smiling. Her mom tired more quickly on the pain pills, however, so when she fell asleep again around lunchtime, Leroy and Hiram took food orders and set out again. Her father stepped out for the bathroom soon after, and Rachel decided to drop by the gift shop downstairs to get them some toothbrush and paste and to pick up something for Mom.

So Quinn sat alone next to her mother, staring up at the TV playing a baseball game on mute until Mom stirred and she leaned over to take her hand. Her mom blinked a couple of times before she smiled and tugged her mask down.

"Was it me?" she asked hoarsely, gesturing to the empty room.

Quinn smiled. "Course not. They're all getting lunch or going to the bathroom or buying toothpaste. They'll be back."

Mom nodded. "Good."

"You like Leroy and Hiram, don't you?" Quinn leaned her elbow on the mattress, tilting her head.

"Oh, yes, they're lovely, darling. And so funny." She giggled – but stopped herself quickly.

Quinn bit her lip. "Good."

Silence settled between them, but it was only for a moment because her mother was giving her a suspicious side-eye that Quinn couldn't keep from chuckling at.

"What?"

"You're not trying to tell me something, are you?" she prodded, almost mischievously.

Quinn didn't know why, exactly, but the question had her cheeks flushing. "Tell you…what?"

Mom just smiled then. "Nothing."

Her eyebrow popped up, but unfortunately, her mother was far too used to that for it to have any effect whatsoever. She only kept smiling and squeezing Quinn's hand, so Quinn sighed and rested her chin on her fist, watching her contentedly.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she found herself mumbling, staring at the face she so loved.

Mom's smile faded. "You don't have to know…ever again. I'm here for you. Always. You know that, right?"

Quinn nodded quickly. "I know."

"And I'm sorry I haven't been…handling your father as well as I should, and that I haven't…been the world's most wonderful mother – "

"Mom." Quinn frowned. "Stop. You know you're the best mom in the world." She bit on her lip for a moment. "I love you."

Her mother practically glowed. "I love you, too, honey."

Quinn squeezed her hand, readjusting in her seat, until Rachel burst in with a chipper smile and a stuffed purple puppy.

"I've got toothpaste and three brushes and isn't this the most adorable thing you've ever seen?"

Mom grinned as she took it. "It's lovely, dear, thank you."

Rachel simply nodded with that bright smile of hers, and then winked at Quinn, who mouthed back, 'Imp' before tugging her into her lap again.

#

Mom took one more afternoon nap before they all had dinner together, and her father attempted to pay Leroy and Hiram back for the meals they had brought in. They, of course, were having none of it and took to ignoring any mention of money at all. Quinn exchanged many amused glances with Rachel for the duration of the half-silent battle, until her father finally gave up and let everyone eat in peace.

Just as they were all cleaning up, however, Ryder knocked twice and stepped inside, flanked by two suits. Quinn stiffened instantly, but Rachel stroked the back of her neck and it sent an instant feeling of relaxation through her body. Still, she glared.

"Full room," Ryder commented. "You've got quite an audience, Ms. Lester."

Her mother merely smiled. "What can we do for you, Commissioner?"

"Actually, we need to speak with you and your family alone," one of the suits said.

"This is my family."

Quinn smirked despite herself, kissing Rachel's cheek upon spying a grin on those lips out of the corner of her eye.

"Then we need to speak with you, your ex-husband, and your daughter alone then," he corrected, clearing his throat.

Leroy and Hiram stood, grabbing the plates and plastic-ware to toss out on their way, and Quinn sighed as Rachel pushed off of her lap, tugging her down for a soft kiss.

"See you soon," Rachel whispered, and Quinn tried to smile as she watched her go.

Only once the door was shut behind her did the two men in suits step forward, and the same one who had spoken before said, "Ms. Lester, Mr. Fabray, Miss Fabray – I am Agent Lewis with the FBI; this is my partner, Agent Fields. The commissioner contacted us about your situation involving a religious terrorist and we'd like to discuss your options with you."

Quinn exchanged a glance with her mother. She looked just as puzzled as Quinn felt, but it was her father who spoke up.

"What options? I thought our only option was to put our lives in the hands of these idiots or get the hell out of town," he grumbled.

Fields' brow furrowed. "Commissioner Ryder has expressed to us that he feels his department has inadequate resources to protect you; that's why we're here." He paused, looking over all of them now. "We'd like to put you in witness protection."

"Witness protection," her mother echoed. "We're not witnesses."

"It is the best way to get you and your family out of the line of fire until we are able to track the suspect down." Lewis stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. "You'd be placed under FBI surveillance in a new house, new town, new state. You can take all of your belongings with you; pack whatever you need first and we'll send the rest along after we've moved you. The important thing is to get you out fast, where the suspect is unable to reach you."

"Sounds better than anything these morons have suggested," her father offered when Mom glanced over, and Quinn sighed.

"There are some drawbacks," Fields cut in.

"Like what?" Quinn raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"You'll be given new identities. And you'll be allowed no contact with anyone you knew, not even to tell them that you're leaving and especially not where you're going." Quinn's heart dropped with every word. "No access to anything like social media, not even new accounts. You'll be living off the radar entirely."

Mom was aghast. "What about my other daughter? My granddaughter?"

"They'd be informed, but contact would be extremely limited and communicated only through the FBI. The important thing is to get your immediate family – " he pointed to the three of them " – in immediate danger gone."

"Until you find the bastard," her father added.

"If we find him," Lewis said, nodding.

Quinn watched as he fumed. "You're the FBI, how are you _not_ going to find him?"

"He may disappear off the face of the planet as soon as you do, or he may give up after his failed attempt to kill Ms. Lester here, or he might just move on to a new target. We simply don't know. The mind of a killer is complex and often unpredictable, and cases often go cold fast. But we _will_ do our best and we _will_ use every resource available to us. Even if you don't enter into the program."

Quinn swallowed, twisting the hem of her sleep shorts. "So if you don't ever find him, we'll be…in the program forever. Never see anyone or talk to anyone again."

Fields looked at her for a moment, exchanged a glance with Lewis, and nodded. "Yes."

"No." Quinn shook her head, glancing to her parents. Her heart was pounding. "I can't. I can't do that. I'm sorry."

"Quinn, they'll keep us safe. It's not the same as the local police; they can do it," her father said sharply.

She shook her head harder, whipping herself with her hair. "_No_."

His jaw tightened. "I know you're a teenager and you're in love, but you are not choosing this…relationship over your safety, or your family's safety, I will not have it – "

"I'm not…I want you two to go." Quinn swallowed, taking in her mother's wide eyes before she looked up to the agents. "Send them to safety, give them new identities, but I'll stay. You can use me as bait. Lure him out and-and then they can come back."

"Quinnie, no," her mother said weakly.

"We're already planning on doing that with one of our undercover agents. Our job is not to put civilians at risk," Lewis retorted, frowning.

Quinn stood, biting hard on her bottom lip. "You're not, I'm offering. Just put them in the program, and let me stay."

"Quinn, we're not going anywhere without you," Mom interjected, but she kept her gaze steady on the agents. "If-if you choose to stay, then I am, too."

"We both will," her father agreed, but then he stood, too, and Quinn glanced over at him. "But we'll all still be at risk."

She wavered. "You just said these aren't the local police, they can protect us better."

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Her father hesitated, looking down for a moment. "Quinn…I know I've been a poor father. I know I've lost your trust and I know that I have to earn it back, but just for this moment, right now, try to trust me anyway. This is the best option that we, as a family, have. If we go into the program, we'll be able to go back to our safe, quiet life and rebuild our family together. He'll never find us. Your mother can recover in peace and you'll never have to worry over her safety again. Or Rachel's."

Quinn scowled, backing up one of the steps he'd taken toward her. "Leaving Rachel leaves her vulnerable to him."

He kept staring at her calmly. "No, you had the right idea when you were pushing her away. You know you did. If you leave with us, you're not around her, he'll forget about her. She won't matter to him if he thinks she doesn't matter to you. And the FBI, these agents will be here to step in and protect her even if that's not the case. Besides, it might only be for a little while, until they catch him, and then you can come back and be with her again."

Quinn shook her head, snuffling. "Or I'll never see her again."

"Would you rather she was alive and you never see her again, or…?" He trailed off, raising his eyebrows pointedly. "Anyway, you'd find someone new, eventually. You're young, Quinn, there are plenty of-of girls _and_ boys for you to – "

"_No_, there is only Rachel," she snapped, and he raised his hands.

"Okay, all right."

"Quinn," her mother said softly, and she glanced over. "No matter what you decide, I'll support you."

She worked her jaw. There was a stinging at the back of her eyes and a sharpness in each thump of her heart that seemed to dig harder and harder every time. Her stomach felt queasy and her knees were barely holding together. Every muscle in her body was trembling, and every breath was a drag.

She stared at the three silent men, Lewis and Fields and Ryder. "Do you think…that this is everyone's best option?"

Lewis nodded. "Absolutely."

Ryder nodded, too. "My department can't protect you. We can't give you justice. Do it."

She looked to Fields. He hesitated a moment or two.

"I can't tell you that this is the best solution for everyone," he said at length. "But it is the solution that benefits the most people. You and your family will be safe. And I promise, personally, to do my best to protect your girlfriend and her family from any further harm, if you choose to do it."

Quinn's heart thudded against the ground, and she stepped over it as she breathed, "I need to think" and fled the room as fast as her feet would carry her.


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Quinn ran all the way home. She felt like a teenage cliché, running block after block through Lima, all the way from the hospital to her house and up into her room where she could safely block out the rest of the world. But she couldn't stop once she got started, jogging out of the emergency room and then faster and faster until she was choking on her own breath as she made it into her bedroom. At least she hadn't collapsed in front of her door or on her bed. Then she'd definitely have made it into cliché territory.

A squad car had followed her home. She had looked long enough to be sure that it was two men in the car, men she recognized, before she kept going. And now she glanced out the window, swiping sweat from her brow from running full tilt for several blocks in thick, humid evening air, just to be sure there were still sitting there. So at least she still had the presence of mind not to run into a trap set by Gabriel. Maybe.

Quinn wasn't sure she had the presence of mind for anything, actually, or if she did, that it would last much longer. Because the thought of never seeing Rachel again was… It didn't compute. Half of her high school career she couldn't wait to get away from WMHS so she'd never have to see any of them again, most of all Rachel, it was true, but… But now she was friends with Rachel, now she was _girlfriends_ with Rachel. Even before they had committed to each other, she'd ensured that Rachel would be in her life with those train tickets, because she couldn't imagine it any other way. Rachel was a part of her. Not seeing her was unthinkable.

But her father also had a point, if he wasn't right. And Quinn wasn't sure he wasn't right. Her judgment was clouded, clouded by love and the need to be with Rachel, now and always. She wasn't sure his judgment wasn't clouded by bias, prejudice, or a million other factors, either, though. Like the idea of becoming a family again, something Quinn had once longed for, hoped for, but now… She didn't really need it, or him. And not just because now she had Rachel.

What would she do without Rachel? Rachel was everything. And above all, Quinn wanted her to be happy and safe. Was she safer without Quinn? If Quinn left, would Gabriel leave her alone? Assume she meant nothing, like her father said, and just move on to someone who might still mean something to Quinn? Like Santana, or Brittany, or Puck, or Artie, or Sam. Or even one of the other glee club members, like Joe. Could the FBI protect them? Could they protect Rachel?

Better than the cops, that was for sure. Cooper was a prime example of why the LPD hadn't been able to do anything so far. Not find out who Gabriel was, not catch him, not anything. Some of them, like Cooper, didn't want to. Didn't care, because they were just protecting a bunch of fags and fag-lovers. Gabriel was just taking out the trash.

But they didn't understand, like Quinn did. They didn't understand that Gabriel didn't care who was a gay or a gay supporter, he just wanted to kill and right now, he wanted to kill everyone Quinn loved. He wanted to punish her and break her, and the safest thing for Quinn's family, Quinn's mother, was to be out of his reach. Beth was already safe, gone. Her sister was still in Colorado, of course. But her mother was still vulnerable, and now she was in the hospital Gabriel had broken into and stabbed Kurt all over again, without anyone even noticing.

Quinn had a responsibility to keep her mom safe. But she had an equal or maybe even greater responsibility to the woman she loved. The FBI had made it clear that they intended on moving her and her parents, and that was it. Not Beth and Shelby, not Quinn's sister and her family, so certainly they wouldn't even consider Rachel and her family, unless Gabriel proved they were in real and immediate danger, and then it was doubtful they'd be moved to the same place or even the same state.

But this was the best choice for her mother. But Quinn couldn't leave Rachel. She picked at the silly pilot's cap sitting on her vanity table, the one that had made Rachel blush and made her chocolate eyes go dark chocolate when Quinn had worn it in Columbus, so she'd bought it. To humor her, to see those eyes looking at Quinn with lust and see her cheeks blossoming with pink.

'_I thought he was my soulmate…'_

Quinn whipped her head around toward her bed, sucking in a breath. For a moment, just a brief flicker of a moment, she thought she saw herself and Rachel sitting there in her mind's eye, Rachel leaning forward, begging with those bright eyes.

'_I was afraid that my dreams were falling through and that all I'd have left was Finn and I didn't want to lose that. But when I'm with you, I feel brave again. And I'm not so scared that I'll have nothing left.'_

Quinn tucked in a breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She was stuck. She needed to get unstuck. She marched over to her dresser to change from her sleep clothes into something black, a top and jeans, and then grabbed the keys to her car and took off, squad car following close behind.

#

The men in suits took a long time to leave Judy's hospital room. Rachel was practically snoozing on her papa's shoulder, feet up in Dad's lap, by the time they passed by the waiting room to leave, nodding toward the three of them on their way out. But she was wide awake the moment she saw them, trotting into the room again where the commissioner was still speaking with Mr. Fabray and Judy – Rachel did a double take.

"Where's Quinn?"

They all looked uncomfortable immediately, but Mr. Fabray was the one who spoke. "She took off."

Rachel gaped. "And you just _let_ her? With _him_ out there?! What if he's just been-been waiting for her to break apart from everyone an-and grab her, what if – "

Commissioner Ryder lifted his hands. "Listen, listen. She still has two of my men on her; we'll radio them and find out where she is. Okay?"

But he didn't move. Rachel gestured wildly at him. "Well, do it! Do it now!"

He stared at her for just a moment before pulling his radio from his chest and clearing his throat, speaking into it. "Hanson and Petty, what's your 10-20?"

A moment passed before a crackling voice answered, "We're at the high school across town."

"Okay, is Quinn with you?"

"She just went inside, sir."

Commissioner Ryder lifted his thumb off the radio, but the only thing in front of him was the door swinging shut.

#

Quinn was almost impressed with herself. She still remembered a few tricks from when she'd been with the Skanks, well enough to break into the school without breaking any windows or anything, anyway. It was strange being in the empty, dark place. Different from when she'd been setting things up and planning and practicing for Rachel. Then she'd hardly noticed the echoes of her footsteps, her breath, even the smallest brush of fabric when she walked. She'd been too focused on making things perfect, making them right.

Now the school was shockingly, startlingly silent. Except for the whispers in her ears, the whisper of memories as she passed by rows of metal lockers.

'_You're pretty much the most selfish person I've ever met in my life.'_

'_You've got what I call rich white girl problems.'_

'_You can't hit me!'_

'_Sure I can, unless you got yourself knocked up again, SLUT!'_

'_I don't hate you.'_

And she passed by the choir room, where a thousand songs tried to overwhelm her, and she hurried her step and passed by the girls' bathroom.

'_What are you so scared of?'_

'_The future. When all of this is gone.'_

'_My ticket out of here.'_

'_Finn asked me to marry him.'_

'_You can let go and start your future.'_

She quickened her pace again, past Figgins' office.

'_We're kind of friends, huh?'_

'_Kind of.'_

The library.

'_Quinn, I'm so sorry. It was my wedding that you were going to when you got into your car crash, and you were answering my text message.'_

'_It's not right and it shouldn't be like this.'_

And the auditorium. Quinn stopped abruptly, staring at the double doors for a moment or two. No whispers yet. She reached out, settled her hand on each handle, and dragged both open. It was darker than the rest of the school, untouched by even the moonlight outside. She flipped on the dim lights, the way she remembered it most vividly.

'_You're late.'_

Quinn swallowed, closing her eyes as she started the long, echoing walk toward the stage, holding only a black, lonely piano.

'_We're friends, right?'_

'_Yeah, I guess so…'_

'_I mean, like, everything happened last year…'_

She grimaced, cutting off the words as she padded down the stiff carpeting and arrived at the stage steps. She ascended very gradually, trying to keep her shoes from clanking or thudding on the wooden floor.

'_What's your point?'_

'_My point is, I know we haven't spent a lot of time together this year, but I thought we were close enough to be honest with each other.'_

Quinn stopped just where Rachel had been standing, at the curve of the piano. She stared at the empty bench and flicked on the reading light that would normally shine down on the music book held below it.

'_Go ahead. Ask me.'_

'_Fine. Are you and Finn together?'_

'_Yes. It's been a couple of weeks. It's like Groundhog Day with you, Rachel. How many times do you have to make the same mistake to realize it's not gonna work out?'_

She floated over to the bench, lowering herself to it and petting the keys.

'_Well, thank you for being honest with me, Quinn, and I'm happy for you and Finn, but don't go and try to rewrite history, okay? It was real between us, he chose me over you!'_

'_And how long did that last for?'_

Quinn hit a low key, then another, and looked up where Rachel had been standing that day. She could almost see her hurting face, the eyes filled with tears that wanted to come. But the strength that she showed in refusing to allow Quinn the satisfaction.

'_Why are you being so mean?'_

'_Do you wanna know how the story plays out? I get Finn, you get heartbroken. And then Finn and I stay here and start a family. I'll become a successful real estate agent and Finn will take over Kurt's dad's tire shop. You don't belong here, Rachel. And you can't hate me for helping to send you on your way.'_

The whispers stopped abruptly there, and Quinn closed her eyes, quietly fingering a few more keys.

"Quinn?"

She looked up sharply, over to the double doors as one of them swung and latched shut behind Rachel, out of breath and still in her heart pajamas and sleep t-shirt with the gold star emblazoned across the front. She beamed and raced down the aisle closest to the steps, taking them two at a time – an impressive feat for her height – and then running up to Quinn for a hug where she had stood waiting. Her cheeks were pink from labor and she was quietly panting, but she kissed Quinn's cheek and smiled up at her.

"God. Don't scare me like that again, okay? You know better than to run off alone right now, why didn't you come get me? I would've come with you and we could've talked whatever it is out. I mean, we still can, but Quinn, you almost gave me a heart attack – _again_ – I mean, what if he's out there waiting to-to jump out and grab you like he did Judy?" Rachel paused to let out a heavy breath, still petting Quinn's hair down.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Rachel only shook her head and hugged her again, sagging with relief. "I'm just glad you're all right." She paused again, squeezing Quinn around her stationary arms. "What happened in there?"

Quinn breathed in and then out one more time, closing her eyes. Rachel smelled like strawberries, more than ever now that she'd been using the shampoo consistently. Quinn wondered if it was to please her, though as soon as the thought occurred, she knew the answer. She extracted herself from Rachel's embrace.

She breathed in and then out, looking down into bright, expectant brown eyes. Smiling, plump pink lips that even when Rachel wasn't outright grinning or beaming or smiling, still held a happy curve whenever they'd been together. The dark beauty mark on her cheek that Quinn had kissed a thousand times by now. That adorable, large Jewish nose.

She took a step backward. "They want to put us in witness protection."

Rachel just stared at her, and Quinn stepped backward again, leaning a hand on the piano in case she started to stumble or her knees simply gave out, gave up, dropped her to the ground.

"Me, my father, Mom. They want to move us out as soon as possible, send us to some other town in some other state, and give us new identities, until Gabriel is caught…if he's caught… With no contact with anyone we ever knew here."

Quinn remembered most intensely how Rachel's face had looked after she'd slapped her, that prom night junior year. She'd been stunned, stung, shocked. Quinn had been instantly filled with regret, the kind that would've yanked on her heart and made her sick if she hadn't apologized right away. Because she'd never wanted to see that look again; she'd never wanted to see Rachel's eyes go wide with hurt and shock, especially because of Quinn, ever again.

She saw it now.

"Let me…see if I understand this correctly." Rachel wetted her bottom lip, and Quinn was given a reprieve from those eyes as she looked to the floor. "If you went, and Gabriel was never caught, we'd never see each other again. I'd never…even know where you were."

Quinn nodded in confirmation, watching Rachel process, and the tears were already making her eyes shine.

She sniffed, gathering herself nonetheless, spine straightening. "I'm guessing you don't look like you've just seen a ghost because you said no."

"I said I needed to think," Quinn corrected, swallowing. "And then I left." Rachel stared at her then, expectantly, waiting with both hope and resignation somehow fitting onto her face. Quinn almost choked. "I don't see any other way." Rachel turned half away from her and pressed her face into her palms. "Look, if I…if I stay, we'd just be spending our time waiting for him to come after my mom or you or someone else that I love, but if I go, you'll be safe."

Rachel frowned at her, folding her arms. "You're going to have to explain that…"

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before she spoke again. "He will think that you don't mean anything to me, and – "

"God, not this _again_!" She threw up her arms, pacing away, and Quinn raised her voice even higher.

"And you can go to New York!"

Rachel paused suddenly, turning about. Her brow was knit.

"You can go and you can start your future, and you will be safe, too," she finished, softer.

"Okay, if I'll be so safe in New York…then why don't you come with me?" Rachel approached her again, the hard anger that had briefly flashed over her face gone, replaced with gentle persuasion. Gentle love. Quinn swallowed. "Why don't we just…pack up and go, together? We can leave whenever we want, we can leave tomorrow, and get started on _our_ future together. We'll-we'll find an apartment and crummy waitressing jobs and – "

"And everyone we leave behind will be preyed on by Gabriel. He'll kill my mom, Santana, Brittany. Your fathers, maybe. Kurt. He'd do anything to draw us back, and we'd come back," Quinn interjected, lowering her eyes.

Rachel's eyebrows rose. "You don't think he'll do that if you go into witness protection and I go to New York?"

"I think my mother will only go into witness protection if I do and I…I want to keep both of you safe. I just don't see any other way to do it." She palmed the piano, running her thumb across the sharp edge of it.

"Than for us to never see each other again," Rachel reminded her flatly. "Do I have to remind you that I am not okay with that? That I am not okay with not being with you?"

She shook her head mildly, whispering, "No. I'm not okay…with it, either, but…"

"But you'd rather never see me again than try to make it through this."

"I'd rather you were safe," Quinn corrected harshly. "I…can't handle the idea of you getting hurt. I die every time I think about it."

Rachel sniffled, and Quinn couldn't help but look at her. Tears were flowing silently down her face, but she swiped at them, leaving wet stains on her cheeks, over her beauty mark. Quinn shifted, wanting to move closer, to wipe them away and comfort and kiss her, but Rachel didn't notice and turned away again, composing herself.

The silence was punctured only by Rachel's sniffles and one of the wall clocks quietly ticking the seconds away.

"Maybe we're just making this too difficult," Rachel said at last, whipping around with new fire in her eyes. "Maybe there's a really simple solution that we're totally overlooking."

Quinn tried not to grow hopeful, but it was impossible when Rachel was looking at her like that and she was grasping so hard for any way at all she could change this situation. "What?"

Rachel breathed it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Marry me."

Quinn felt her eyes widen. "What?"

"I mean it. Marry me, Quinn. If we get married, we don't have to split up," she said rapidly, moving toward her again, taking her hands. "They can't refuse to send me into witness protection with you if we're married, it's-it's unlawful and I'd be in enough danger as your wife for them to send me with you, and then we'd be together, Quinn, we'd be able to stay together for as long as it took to catch Gabriel, don't you see?" She was grinning.

"What…" Quinn struggled, swallowing. "What about your fathers? What about…Kurt an-an-and – "

Rachel's spirits were only slightly dampened at the thought. "I would miss them, yes, and I love them, but… Quinn, I need you. I need to be with you."

Quinn stared for a moment at those big, earnest eyes. "You're doing it again."

Her lower lip poked out in her puzzlement. "Doing what?"

She ducked her head, squeezing Rachel's hands as she murmured reluctantly, "You're afraid…of not having anything left if you don't get into NYADA, if you don't get to Broadway. You're clinging to the one thing you think you have and jumping into something you can't possibly be ready for, just like with Finn, just like – "

"Okay, Quinn, do not presume to tell me what this is about for me!" Rachel's hands disappeared from Quinn's rather quickly, going into the fierce activity of flailing and gesturing instead, as Rachel's cheeks and eyes went aflame with anger. "God, this has been our problem from the very beginning, because you refuse to let go of my past with Finn and our marriage, and yes, I was going to marry him, yes, I thought he was my soulmate, but I was _stupid_! Okay? I was stupid, because you were right there, waiting for me, and now here I am, pouring my heart out to you, _again_, and here you are trying to tell me it's still all about Finn! Well, guess what? It's not about Finn, it's not even about NYADA or Broadway, because I am not scared of losing Finn, I've done it before, I don't need him – and I'm not scared of losing Broadway, because I know I'll have it when I'm with you – _I am afraid of losing you_! Just…you.

"I cannot live the rest of my life without you, Quinn, because you are as much a part of my dreams as Broadway is now. I want to see…" She paused, wiping her eyes. "I want to see you in the front row, center, cheering me on at my first Broadway performance. I want to lay in bed with you on Sundays and watch you eat soy whipped cream off my thighs, and I want to go to the premiere of the first documentary you make and I want to narrate it for you and sing an award-winning song for the end credits of it, and I want you to be the one holding my hand on a red carpet when I get my Tony Award and my Grammy and my Oscar and my Emmy an-and I want to walk down the aisle to you and say 'I do.' Because I do, Quinn."

Quinn's heart was thumping, but without its usual power. It was a half-thump. Half powered, half hopeful. Her eyes were burning angrily as she stared at Rachel and her honest, pleading face.

"I wouldn't let you ruin your life by marrying Finn Hudson," she said at last, hearing the hoarseness of her voice and trying to clear it, after a moment, to no avail. "I'm certainly not going to let you ruin your life by marrying me."

Rachel shook her head angrily, scowling across at Quinn, but she went on anyway, ignoring the fury in her wet brown eyes.

"You know what would happen if we did this, Rachel. You'd get a new identity, too, you'd have to move somewhere new – probably not New York. And you could not be famous. You couldn't risk it, you couldn't risk following your dreams, and maybe not in a month or even a year, but someday, you would regret the choice you made. You would regret being with me and you would resent me for it, and I can't deal with that."

"You don't know that, Quinn," she mumbled tearfully, deflated from her previous power. "They could catch Gabriel in a week or a month and…it wouldn't make any difference to my plans. And even if they never catch him, I would be happy. Because I'd have you."

"You'd be half-happy," Quinn conceded. "But doing this…being with me this way wouldn't be being who you are, and you can't ever be happy not being who you are, Rachel. No one can."

"So you're telling me who you are doesn't know me, doesn't care about me – "

"I am not saying that _I_ won't be miserable. What I'm saying is that I don't want you to be."

"Well, I don't want you to be, either," Rachel retorted, sniffing and straightening up again.

Quinn bit her lip, hesitating as she looked across at those fiery eyes, that confident stance. "I'm sorry."

She spoke barely an octave above hearing range, but somehow Rachel heard her and nodded, staring down at the stage floor where they'd first made love. She traced her shoe in a circle along the floor before she met Quinn's eyes again.

"I'm not. I have loved…every single minute I've spent with you," she said softly, a few more tears falling.

Quinn swallowed and looked down to the floor, for a moment seeing rose petals and hearing those whispers again.

'_You're so beautiful.'_

'_I love you so much.'_

She snuffed in hard, tears threatening harder than ever now that she was looking down, letting gravity encourage them to pour, and shuffled forward, gradually making her way to where Rachel stood, arms folded and crying freely. Her plump lips were parted to lick the salty tears up, and as such, they were shining wet when Quinn looked at them. She lifted her hand to the soft jaw she had kissed and caressed so many times, passing the pad of her thumb over that beauty mark. She felt herself shaking and tried, for a moment, to steady herself in vain. And then she leaned forward quickly, to press one more kiss on Rachel's sweet lips.

Rachel responded with a sniffle and an open mouth, a last half-hearted attempt to change Quinn's mind, and lifted her hands to settle on Quinn's hips. Quinn shifted herself closer, wanting to kiss her forever and ever, to cement this moment in her mind if it ever had to end, but also for it never to end as she tasted Rachel's minty fresh tongue one more time, brought Rachel's bottom lip between hers one more time, tenderly caressed her lips over Rachel's one more time. But it was different than any other time, because Rachel's tears slipped between their mouths, and Quinn thought she might die the moment it ended.

But she didn't, because Rachel hugged her instead, burying her face into her neck, and Quinn gathered her up into her arms, squeezing closer, tighter than ever. She would never forget the way Rachel's hot, wet cheeks felt against her neck, nor the way she curled her fingers into the back of Quinn's shirt, like she was never going to let go. Nor would she forget what it felt like to finally let go and walk away, stepping over the ruins of her own heart on the way away.

"Quinn!"

She stopped, turning her heel on a piece of shattered heart. Rachel sniffed and wiped her cheeks again before she took a steadying breath, and said with all the confidence in the world, "I'll _never_ give up on you. It'll _never_ be over between us."

Quinn swallowed and stared at the triumph light up Rachel's eyes one more time when Quinn didn't say it, didn't yell 'yes, it is.' She couldn't. So instead she turned away and went out to her car to drive back to the hospital, but she only made it about two blocks before she had to pull over. The sun was out and shining bright by the time she stopped crying, sat up, and drove again.


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Rachel's dads drove her home shortly after collecting her from the auditorium where she sat at the piano, staring at nothing. Rachel could only assume they'd seen Quinn leave and put the pieces together, because they didn't say anything. They just drove and when they got home, she went upstairs to curl up in bed, pausing a moment by Quinn's abandoned suitcase and stealing out a shirt to snuggle with. It felt a bit pathetic. She didn't care at the moment.

They left her alone for the most part, letting her lay in bed moping, staring into space or alternately crying her eyes out, squeezing and wrenching the shirt in her fingers. Sometimes one of them would poke his head in, when she was quiet, and Dad would come over to pet her hair and kiss her head, while Papa would come give her a big, strong hug. At one point, they both came in with some soy ice cream. She ate a few bites to humor them.

But she couldn't really muster an appetite when she was faced with a future without Quinn in it. She hadn't even realized how much she'd begun to rely on the fact that Quinn would always be at her side until that night. And now she was abandoning her for her safety. Again.

Rachel didn't really get it. Maybe because she didn't think logically all the time, like Quinn. Maybe when Quinn thought about it, it really was the most effective solution. But Rachel could only see the loss, and no matter how safe a life in New York without Quinn would be, it wasn't worth it. A life without Quinn wasn't worth it. She would rather be steeped in danger, thrown to the wolves, trapped in the lion's den than live the rest of her life without Quinn, not knowing where she was or what she was doing, if she was okay, if she eventually moved on with some other lucky girl.

Someone less like Rachel, she imagined. Someone who thought like Quinn, purely logical. But she'd never make Quinn completely happy like that, Rachel thought spitefully. Quinn needed someone dramatic, she needed someone who made her look at the emotional side, who pestered her until she opened up, who brought out her silly side. Someone she could safely be emotional and silly with, someone she could trust to never judge her. Someone who was completely devoted to her and wasn't afraid to say so.

Just like Rachel needed someone who saw reality without letting personal bias and feeling get in the way, to calm her and make her see things as they were. She just wasn't quite seeing it this time. And she grew sick of thinking about it, of rolling from side to side in her cold, empty bed, sobbing and thinking, trying to see how Quinn was seeing it, because maybe it would ease the pain to know, like Quinn seemed to know, that this was the best solution.

And she grew tired of her fathers checking on her by Sunday morning. They never once asked what happened or if she was okay, and in a way, that was fine. They could tell she wasn't. But she needed to talk, she needed to express herself and cry with someone who would understand and reassure her, and maybe help her see the bright side in all this. If there was one. She needed Kurt.

She hadn't showered since Judy was attacked, so she spent about an hour scrubbing herself down and letting her tears mix with the hot water, until it grew cold and she was shivering as she dried herself off. Then she threw on some clothes, the green sweater Quinn had borrowed to her the first night they spent together and Rachel had stolen without notice, and headed out to drive to Kurt's, ignoring her fathers' implied concern over her ability to drive in this condition when they urged her over and over to be careful. She was an excellent driver, after all.

When Rachel knocked on the Hummel door, it was Finn who answered again, and his initial grin on seeing her faded quickly, though he still greeted her jovially.

"Hey, what's goin' on?"

Rachel tried to smile at him, to reward his friendliness. "Is Kurt talking to anyone yet?"

Finn sighed and shook his head. "Just Blaine now. Still won't see me or Mom." He scratched the back of his neck.

She nodded a tiny bit. "Well, thanks anyway."

"Hey. Uh, why don't you come in?" Finn opened the door wider, gesturing. "I mean, you're obviously upset about something…we can talk…"

Rachel hesitated. Talking to Finn about Quinn _again_ seemed like a bad idea. But she was tired, and she needed a friend, and Finn was offering, and Quinn was shut down on her again. Besides, he _had_ been helpful in making that video to make Quinn jealous. Just because it didn't work out the way he'd said or Rachel had intended – well, it wasn't his fault Quinn was convinced Rachel's life revolved around Finn.

"Okay," she mumbled at last.

She passed underneath his arm, letting his hand at the base of her back guide her up the stairs and into his cubby of a room. She sat on the edge of his bed, resting on the familiar mattress and looking around the unchanged space. It still smelled like corn chips inside, though Finn had grown a little neater in his organization over the last year. She supposed it was part of growing up. Or maybe just from living with Kurt.

Finn's weight sank the bed a couple more inches, and he gestured for her to speak.

"Quinn…Quinn and I broke up. I think." She curled the sweater sleeves around her fists and wiped at her cheeks, cursing herself for crying _already_.

"Oh, jeez. I'm-I'm sorry, Rach." His big hand started rubbing her back. "What happened?"

"She's leaving, she's leaving me, because of Gabriel." She leaned into his frame, and his arm curled around her shoulders. "I probably shouldn't say anymore, but. God, Finn." She gripped onto his shirt and before she knew it, she was full-on bawling again.

He rubbed her back and arm steadily, shushing her and squeezing her a bit closer – a little too hard, like he always did, but at the moment, Rachel didn't mind. It felt good to be held tightly, in fact, to be held solidly. So the world didn't go careening off its axis because she was never going to see Quinn again.

"I love her so much," she whimpered against his chest, sniffling hard so as not to completely ruin his shirt. "Why? Why does it always have to turn out like this? Why can't the people who are supposed to be together end up together?"

Finn clumsily petted her hair, tugging a bit at the roots. "I'm sorry, Rach."

She shook her head. Of course Finn didn't have any answers – not that she expected him to, but shouldn't somebody? Shouldn't somebody know why every relationship she had ended in heartache? Shouldn't somebody know why her relationship with Quinn seemed star-crossed? Every single time they touched happiness, it fell apart because of this maniac, and now Quinn was leaving forever. No more happiness. No more hope of a future. No nothing.

Not even – Finn's soft lips? Rachel careened backward, scrambling out of his embrace and off his bed.

"What are you doing?!"

He stared at her, bewildered. "I thought…you know, cause you and Quinn are over – "

"You thought you just get to kiss me, like if I'm not with somebody else, I'm your property?" Rachel threw up her hands. "God, you're just like Quinn that way. You both have this stupid idea in your head that my life revolves around you; well, I'm sorry, but it doesn't, Finn. I turned to you for comfort, as a friend, and you…you've ruined it, because you can't see that _we_ are not good for each other! Because you can't see that I…I'm heartbroken."

Finn blinked, puzzled – but there was that sour, apologetic look on his face as he stood. "I'm-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Rach, I didn't mean to… I know your life doesn't revolve around me, but…" He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't know, I still kinda thought this was some kind of phase, I guess, and, well, this is what we do. We break up and date other people and then we get back together, right?"

Rachel heaved a sigh. "It wasn't a phase, Finn; I told you that from the beginning."

His face contorted. "I know. But you say a _lot_ of stuff, I mean…"

For a moment, she couldn't help but giggle, wiping her eyes. "So I should talk less and then you and Quinn will believe me when I say things?"

Finn cracked a smile. "No. We just…need to get used to the new you."

"Well, that's what I was trying to do before." Off his puzzled look, she added, "Wait Quinn out. On everything. On believing that I was just going to go back to you, and that this was all just because of the explosion… But this isn't something I can wait her out on. She's leaving." She wiped her nose with the sleeve of the sweater. "I don't know what to do."

Finn peered down at her sympathetically before setting a large hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rach. C'mere."

He pulled her against his chest again, and this time, there was no unpleasant intrusion of lips when Rachel burrowed into his giant frame and cried her eyes out.

#

Quinn's mother asked her at least a hundred times if she was sure about her decision. And probably would've asked a thousand more if it hadn't been for Agent Lewis and her father interrupting or cutting her off each time she seemed about to plant more doubts in Quinn's mind. It didn't matter one way or another though, whether she asked or not, whether they interrupted or not, because Quinn would never be sure about a decision that meant never seeing Rachel again. But she couldn't be selfish.

So she just let them hash out their different opinions in even, passive aggressive 'adult' speak while she sat next to her mom's hospital bed all Saturday, until her release in the afternoon. Then she spent the rest of the day in her room, packing her things neatly into boxes her assigned police guards brought up to her, otherwise rejecting their help. She preferred to pack away her memories and her belongings on her own. To focus on the task at hand so she didn't fall apart all over again.

As such, Quinn worked long into the night, until Agent Fields came up to suggest she get some sleep and threatened to remove all the packing supplies until she did. She appreciated his concern, but sleep didn't happen. Particularly after she had the nightmare again. The one that ended with her stabbing Rachel in the chest, only this time Rachel was alive for just a moment afterward and whimpered, eyes filled with tears, _Quinn_.

She went straight to the toilet and then for a shower after that, caked with sweat just as she had been the last time, and then continued packing until everything but the necessities and the furniture were packed into neatly labeled and taped boxes. It was still grey out, and she heard no noises from the rest of the house, so she decided to check and see if Rachel had posted any new videos since their last conversation. Nothing.

So she started watching them, one after the other, from the last one posted to the first one she ever posted. She even got pretty far, back into when she'd been singing for Finn and only Finn, before there was a knock at her door and Agent Fields brought her breakfast before helping her load all the boxes into the moving van waiting outside. They wouldn't be leaving for another day, he told her, but loading things a bit at a time made it an easier move.

They wound up going to church. The agents told them that they needed to keep up the guise of their regular routine, so their disappearance wouldn't be as predictable. So Quinn sat through the service silently, fiddling with the star hanging from the chain around her neck, glancing out of the corner of her eye at her mother's still-bandaged neck.

After dining out, picking at their meals, they spent the rest of the day packing. Her father helped, despite not owning much of anything in the house except his already-packed suitcase. Apparently there were agents clearing out his home in Colorado at the moment. Quinn pointed out that he could simply go back there and be just as out of reach as her sister. The agents said it wasn't possible now that Gabriel had made an explicit threat against him, and her father repeated his claim that he wasn't going anywhere until the threat against his ex-wife and daughter was eliminated.

Quinn supposed it didn't matter. If she was going to live a miserable existence in some remote town as Dorothy Greengrass or whatever they picked for her anyway, it might as well be with her father, too.

She tried not to think of Rachel at all, but found herself wondering what he'd have done if Quinn had agreed to marry her. Explode in impotent rage? Try to accept it in the silent, grudging, teeth-gritted way he was trying to accept everything else? It wouldn't matter, of course, it wouldn't change anything. But she wondered.

Mainly because it allowed her a way to think of Rachel and to wonder what their life would've been like, without breaking apart while she boxed up her and her mother's belongings.

She didn't sleep again that night, too afraid of having another nightmare like the last one.

In the morning, her mother and Agent Lewis went to her job to wrap up her projects and quit, and Agent Fields told them they'd be leaving that evening, under cover of darkness. Few people moved out of their house and did it at night, so they'd be less likely to be noticed, he explained. Quinn thought people might have noticed the moving van anyway, but apparently they'd come up with a cover for that, too – they were clearing out some things to donate and sell, that was all.

They put the finishing touches on the near empty house over the course of the rest of the day, and Quinn debated before she eventually sent Rachel a text reading, 'We're leaving tonight.' There was no response, of course. She didn't expect Rachel to want another goodbye. She wasn't even sure she wanted one, even just to see Rachel one more time.

The FBI weren't allowing them to say goodbye to anyone as it was, so though they let her go to her lunch at the Lima Bean with Santana and Brittany, she only sat staring into space, wishing she could say, wishing she could hug them and tell them what they'd meant to her. But even if she did tell them, Santana would fly into catastrophic rage or something, and Brittany would spill the beans – by accident, but still.

Quinn needed to say goodbye to someone, though. Both for closure and to be sure someone would be watching over Rachel. She'd already pulled in her favor with Kurt, and really, the person she'd want to ask that favor of was already gone. So she texted Mercedes' substitute, Sam, asking him to come by the house around nine. He got back with her quickly, only saying, 'Sure.'

And she was reassured, able to spend the rest of the day with some kind of ease. Something close to it, anyway, she supposed. As it came closer and closer to time to leave, Quinn couldn't help looking out the window or down the street where Rachel walk or drive down from if she was coming. She couldn't help a little hope that she'd see her, just one more time.

Around eight, her father said he had one more errand to run and took off, leaving them a little shorthanded in finishing loading their belongings. They were cramming in the big stuff, like the TV and the cabinets, and could've used the extra hand – fortunately, Sam came driving up just after nine and hopped out of his truck with a frown and a knit brow.

"What's going on?"

Quinn wiped off her hands as she stepped up to meet him in the driveway, sighing out in explanation, "They're…they're moving us out of town. We're being placed under witness protection. Gabriel, he went after my mom."

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh, my God. Wait, so you're leaving? Why didn't you tell anyone? Wait, what about Rachel? She's – "

"I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. I shouldn't even be telling you, but…" Quinn set her hands on her hips and sighed, trying to gather the words she needed. "I need you to watch out for Rachel after I'm gone. The way I would after Mercedes. See that she's okay, and happy, and that she makes it to New York."

Sam shuffled his feet, staring at her intent eyes. "I-I will. I'll look after her like my little sister, I promise."

Quinn nodded, reassured. She wanted to hug him, to thank him, but she couldn't move or speak, and by the time she might've built up the courage, Sam spoke again.

"Is she, uh…is she coming to say goodbye, or is she already here?" He was glancing around, trying to spy the little brunette head.

Her eyebrow cocked. "No, why?"

"Well, the lights were off in her house, it didn't look like anybody was home, so I thought maybe…"

Quinn's brow furrowed then, a yanking at the bottom of her stomach telling her to pull out her phone, to check. She held up a hand to him, muttering, "Hold on," and typed out, 'Is everything okay?'

Two minutes passed, while Sam leaned against her trunk and Quinn waited, staring down her phone, her heart starting to thud angrily. Then it buzzed, and she read three words.

'ON MY WAY.'


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

"Give me your gun."

Sam practically leapt off of Quinn's trunk, as if she were scolding him for leaning on it in the first place – and then stared, wide-eyed, when he realized. "What?"

"Give me your gun, Sam!" Quinn stuffed her phone away to hold her trembling hands out instead, an anxiety she had never felt before chilling her blood and at the same time sending sweat to her forehead.

He just kept staring. "What? Quinn, what's going on, what'd she say?"

Quinn huffed. "She said – she said on my way, now give me your goddamn gun!"

"Whoa, hold on, because she said – "

"It's what I sent to her when I got in my accident, she feels too guilty about it to ever say that again unless something was wrong and – you know what, I don't have time to explain it to you, just give me your gun!"

Finally, he seemed affected by the urgency in her voice, because he tugged his gun from the small of his back and handed it over. Mere moments later, Quinn slammed her car door shut and called, "And send them after me!" before her tires screeched on the pavement.

#

Rachel had had to eat dinner alone. Her fathers texted shortly after they should've gotten home from work that they were having car trouble and not to wait up for them. So she hadn't. She'd spent most of the evening curled up on the couch staring at the TV, watching a documentary on the history channel and spooning soy ice cream into her mouth until someone knocked on the door upstairs.

She flung the blanket aside, dragging her feet up from the basement to swing open the front door without her usual enthusiasm, not really even caring that she was in pajamas and might have had ice cream stains around her mouth. Of course, she didn't care about much of anything at the moment, until she opened the door to a smiling, blue-eyed man with a scratch that was fading into a scar on his cheek.

"Hello, darling."

She couldn't help it – she screamed and went to slam the door shut, but he was much stronger than her. He shoved the door out of his way, sending her stumbling backward, and before she could gather herself again and scramble to the phone, to her pepper spray – anything – he raised a fist and the world went black.

#

The first thing Rachel became aware of was the blinding, piercing pain in her skull. It tingled sharply, like needles stabbing unrepentantly into her head, and she didn't even want to wake up or open her eyes. But then she remembered – Gabriel was there. Gabriel was in her house, Gabriel had knocked her out.

She jerked herself back to life, blowing her hair out of her face and pushing off from the carpeting – her face felt funny, like she'd been lying there for a while – and then she froze. Someone was whistling. She glanced around briefly – she was in her bedroom, on the floor next to the bed. He hadn't even cared enough to put her _on_ the bed. Or maybe she had rolled off.

It didn't matter. Rachel had to get out of there, get out of this, somehow. Pepper spray. She swallowed down the pain in her head, scrambling toward her dresser drawer – and then the door swung open and Gabriel stood there, grinning at her.

"Ah, you're awake. I apologize for not being here to keep you company, but we had a guest while you were napping," he said pleasantly, shutting the door after him and twirling a pistol on his forefinger.

Rachel swallowed, brushing the hair from her face. "A guest?" she choked out.

"Yes, I believe it was our dear Queen Quinn's daddy." He crouched down in front of her, too close for comfort, and she leaned her head farther into the comforter behind her, wanting to disappear into it because now there with him staring and so close it felt like bugs were crawling over every inch of her skin. He smiled. "I was rather surprised to see him, after I worked so hard to be sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

Rachel jerked her head away – and almost instantly regretted it – when he lifted a hand to her cheek. Her head spun and she couldn't help but whimper.

"What-what did you do to him? What did you do to my dads?" she breathed with difficulty.

"Relax, darling, your daddies are fine, although they won't be getting back here any time soon without serious mechanical help. And not to worry – Mr. Fabray is only taking a nap."

Rachel bit her lip, hardly daring to glance at those devilish blue eyes. His proximity was only making the urge to itch herself and scramble away worse and worse, the longer he stayed there, but he just grinned at her. Like he knew how uncomfortable he was making her, like he knew she wouldn't move away or even reach to scratch her crawling skin because she didn't want to give him any reason to shoot her with that gun he was so casually spinning.

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" She curled her fingers into the carpeting, digging her nails in. "Why haven't you killed me?"

"Because I have far better plans for you, Rambling Rachel," he answered simply. "After all…I'm very curious to see just how much our queen loves you."

Rachel's brow furrowed darkly, and she managed to glare at him sideways. "Why don't you just leave Quinn alone?"

"After the souvenir she left me with?" He patted his thigh. "Granted, it was only a flesh wound, but I always repay my debts. Would you like to see?"

She shook her head rapidly, turning her head away again. He chuckled at her.

"Squeamish girl. You'd better hope that your Quinn isn't."

"Quinn isn't coming. She's leaving, or haven't you been paying any attention lately?" she snapped.

"Oh, she'll come for you, darling." He lifted his hand again, cupping her chin with two rough fingers. Rachel whimpered as he dug them in, holding her head still. "And you're going to make sure of it for me."

Rachel tried to shake her head, but his fingers were unyielding. "I won't."

"Yes, you will." He held his gun up pointedly and smiled. "Now where is your phone?"

Rachel pursed her lips tight together. Gabriel tightened his fingers for a moment, sighing.

"I'll find it one way or another, must you make it difficult?"

She gritted her teeth, and he jammed the gun against her cheek.

"I'm not a patient man, Rambling Rachel."

She whimpered softly, closing her eyes, but just then – her stupid phone buzzed. Gabriel smirked at her and stood, limping over to her desk and yanking open the drawer where it sat blaring with a text. He stepped back over to her and dropped the phone into her lap, gesturing with his gun.

"Answer her. Get her here."

Rachel cupped the phone in her hands slowly, eyeing him warily for a moment, her stomach churning. She couldn't put Quinn in danger. But maybe she could warn her somehow.

#

Quinn had probably broken every traffic law in existence on her way to Rachel's house, but she didn't care. She slammed on the brakes, nearly sending herself into the windshield, and steered up into the driveway with stark white hands, winding up half on the lawn. She grabbed Sam's gun from the passenger seat and ran for the front porch, almost panting every breath she took.

But she had to stop, just for a minute, before she went in. She checked the chamber of the Warthog, just like Sam had shown her. It was loaded. A Warthog held one bullet in the chamber, she recalled, ten in the magazine. She had eleven bullets to use then. No shot could be wasted. She flicked the safety off with her thumb and tried to steady her erratic breathing before she pushed the front door open.

The house was dark, silent. Quinn lifted the gun in front of her as she took a step or two inside, glancing around, leaning over the railing to the basement. There was no one there.

It was so quiet. Her heart dropped. Maybe she was too late.

No, she couldn't be, Rachel couldn't be –

Quinn's foot bumped against something on her way past the kitchen, and she jumped, swinging the gun about. But there was no one there. She glanced down, brow furrowed, only to gasp softly when she recognized a head of blonde hair. Her father.

She crouched down on one knee, setting her hand on his very still head. There was blood painting the back of his pale neck. She swallowed and touched his neck. He still had a pulse.

Quinn let out a breath and stood again, turning to make her way up the stairs. She wanted to call out to Rachel, to cry out for her. But her father still lying there in the dark silent house could only mean one of two things – Gabriel was still there, or Rachel was gone.

She swallowed and stopped outside of Rachel's closed door, brow furrowing as she tried to listen for any noise at all, anything to give Gabriel away. Nothing. Still, she pushed open the door, holding the gun aloft – and then pain like she'd never felt before – not while she was conscious anyway – shot up and down through her leg, right into the bone, from thigh to her shin and down into her foot, and Rachel screamed.

Quinn looked up sharply from her thigh, where the bullet had entered, and there they were. Gabriel had an arm hooked around Rachel, holding his gun to her head now while she struggled against him, and he grinned at Quinn.

"That same trajectory problem, look at that. Do you think it exited, Rambling Rachel?" he drawled, and Rachel squirmed, staring at Quinn with tearful eyes. They were already running down her cheeks.

Quinn breathed in and out, trying to push herself past the shock, to stay standing and ignore the pain in her leg. She lifted the gun at him, taking a half-step forward.

"Let her go."

Gabriel smiled. "Now why would I do that? She's such a sweet little thing to hold onto, don't you think?" He squeezed Rachel a bit closer and Quinn gritted her teeth at the grimace his roughness elicited. "I told you we'd be seeing each other soon."

"Your problem is with me."

"That it is," he agreed. "But now you'll do everything I tell you. Or you can see how pretty her brains look on the wall."

Quinn's stomach roiled instantly, but she shook her head, aiming down the sights of the gun at him. And he laughed.

"Come now, Queen Quinn, we both know you're not going to shoot me. If you were courageous enough for that, you'd have stayed with your lover, isn't that right?" He purred into Rachel's ear, and she looked about to throw up.

Quinn growled, taking another half-step. "It doesn't take courage to kill someone. But I'll kill you."

"After I've improved your life so very much? That's not a very kind way to repay someone."

"You went after my daughter, you almost killed my mother, you murdered one of my best friends, and you have the fucking gall to say you've improved my life?"

"Your daddy's back, isn't he? And the girl chose you. Or so it appeared." Gabriel jammed the gun into Rachel's temple when she wriggled a bit too much, and Quinn almost snarled. "I really do hate to tell you this, Queen, but this girl you're so eager to kill for made a visit to her ex just yesterday, and my, my – "

"Don't listen to him, Quinn!" Rachel gasped, shaking her head. "It wasn't like that, I went to see Kurt, and – "

"Have I ever lied to you?" Gabriel prompted, smirking as he covered Rachel's mouth. "Has she?"

Quinn shook her head roughly. It was getting difficult to think. Her head was feeling fuzzy. Rachel's eyes were desperate.

"Don't bother trying to fuck with me," she ground out, aiming again.

Gabriel jerked Rachel closer to him. "Are you really going to take the chance, Quinn? How many times have you held a gun in your life? Are you going to risk hitting her?"

Quinn swallowed. Unfortunately, he was right. She couldn't shoot him, not while he was holding Rachel so close. She needed an opening, and he wasn't allowing it. Not even to get Rachel away from him so they could just flee and no one would have to get shot. Though a part of her wanted to shoot him. Badly. She felt a mother's defensive rage, a daughter's fury, a best friend's vengeance – and above all, a lover's protective anger – swirling within her, with the desire to kill him, to eliminate the threat to her Rachel.

But she lowered her gun, and he smiled.

"Pity. You were so close."

"So close to what?" she snapped.

"To giving in to that part of you that's just like me." He grinned.

"Quinn is nothing like you!" Rachel spat from beneath his hand, and he chuckled.

"Is that what you think? I'm afraid to tell you, my dear, but you can't read someone so well without having even just a little bit of that person in you. Your loving Quinn has a killer in her."

Quinn swallowed, resting her hand on her thigh. It was throbbing now, but she shook her head of it again. Rachel wriggled, trying to break away, but he just laughed, holding her close.

"That's enough. You said…you said I was going to do everything you told me to do. So what? What do you want me to do?"

Gabriel adjusted his arm around Rachel, settling the gun against her temple comfortably. "I want you to make a choice. Between the woman you love, and yourself."

Quinn stared for a moment, then opened her arms. "I'm right here. Let her go and kill me like you've wanted all this time."

Rachel whimpered.

He chuckled. "No, no. I don't think you understand. Either I shoot her brains out, or you shoot yours out."

"NO!" Rachel squirmed harder than ever, and he yanked her closer to keep her under control.

Quinn glanced between them, then down at her gun. "You want me to kill myself."

"Quinn, don't, don't do it, he's-he's just going to kill me afterward even if you do, don't do it!" She was sobbing.

"I will not kill her. Swear on the Bible," Gabriel grunted, tugging Rachel's weight upward.

Quinn sneered. "You don't believe in that any more than you care whether your victim is gay or not."

"Fair enough." He half-grinned. "Then I swear on myself. I will send her away without a scratch. If you take that little gun and shoot yourself."

Quinn swallowed. She didn't really believe him. She was choosing between watching him kill Rachel, or dying and not. And that was the one circumstance in the world Quinn could think of where she'd want to be dead, where she'd want to kill herself. If Rachel was gone. And if by some miracle he _was_ telling the truth, Rachel could live.

She lifted the gun.

Rachel screamed again. "NO! QUINN, DON'T!"

Quinn pulled back the hammer with her thumb, biting her lip as she held the end to the underside of her jaw, staring at Rachel steadily.

Gabriel was struggling with Rachel badly now.

She was fighting him like a wild animal caught in a thorn bush.

And for a moment, she broke away.

Quinn took the shot. She missed in trying to avoid Rachel, hitting the lamp nearby, but it startled Gabriel long enough for his grip to loosen, and Rachel went rocketing out of the way.

When Quinn fired again, she hit him in the chest. She fired nine more times, until the magazine was empty, and Gabriel's back hit the wall.

He stared at her with wide blue eyes. Then he slowly slid down to slump on the floor, blood oozing out his mouth. And the light flickered out of his eyes, leaving them glassy and grey.

Quinn dropped the gun from her clammy, cold hand, looking down at her thigh. Her jeans had turned dark red and clung, soaked, to her leg. Her head suddenly felt even lighter, fuzzier than before, and she stumbled and staggered backward until she was sitting back against the wall, holding her thigh.

Rachel was at her side almost immediately, tears running freely down her face as she kissed Quinn's lips and face over and over again – Quinn did her best to return each and every one – gasping, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, oh, God, Quinn – we-we have to wrap your leg or, or, oh, God, what if he hit an artery?"

Her hands were hovering around Quinn's thigh, barely daring to touch, even as she kept kissing Quinn's face and neck and whispering her love.

Quinn managed to shake her head and rasp out, "He didn't – or…or I'd be dead." She sucked in a breath to keep from screaming or groaning in pain, half-wishing she could just chop it off and end it right there.

Rachel held her face then, kissing her again. "Okay, but we have to, we have to tie it off with something, right? To-to help stop the bleeding? Quinn, look at me, don't close your eyes! Tell me what to do."

Quinn blinked at her heavily and nodded. "Uh…um, get a towel and…a belt."

"Okay, okay. I'll be right back, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," Quinn breathed.

Rachel petted her cheeks, leaping up to find the requested items, stepping gingerly over the pools of blood from Quinn's leg and Gabriel.

Quinn swallowed, staring across at his still form until Rachel returned, and she grunted, "He's dead. I killed him."

Rachel glanced back and her lips dropped into a soft frown as she petted Quinn's hair. "You had no choice, Quinn. Now focus, focus on helping me help you. What next?"

"Put the – put the belt around my thigh, above the wound, tie it off tight."

Rachel nodded rapidly. "What about the towel? What if I hurt you?"

"Pu-put the towel underneath. Don't worry. Sam-Sam sent the police and the FBI after me – it shouldn't be much longer."

Rachel nodded again, kissing her, almost as if in apology, before she lifted Quinn's leg up enough to slip the towel underneath. Quinn bit her teeth together tightly and her nostrils flared as she held in the yelp that wanted to come out, and then Rachel was yanking the belt tight around her thigh and she smacked her fist against the dresser next to her, digging imprints into her palms with her nails. Rachel jumped and stroked her hair again, whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby."

Quinn shook her head. There were sirens approaching now. She breathed a few times through her mouth, harshly. Rachel kissed her cheek tenderly. Quinn stared at her. She was alive. She was okay. They'd made it through, again, and Gabriel was dead. He couldn't hurt Rachel again. Never. Not Rachel, not Mom, not Beth. Not Rachel.

"I-I love you," Quinn murmured, reaching to cup her cheek.

Rachel smiled tearfully, tilting her head to kiss her palm as she held the belt tight. "I love you, too, Quinn. Everything's okay now, you're going to be fine…there's nothing to keep us apart now."

Quinn nodded and found herself saying, just before the cops and FBI and paramedics came rushing in, "Marry me."

#

They took Quinn into surgery almost the moment they arrived at the hospital. The paramedic on the ride over told Rachel they would have to remove the bullet and see what damage had been done. He doubted they'd have to take the leg off, but with how much blood Quinn had lost, he said they would have to give her a few transfusions.

In lieu of sitting in Quinn's room and dying worrying about her, Rachel chose to go see if she could be a donor for Quinn. And fortunately, they matched blood types, so they took the regulation one pint from her and she sat eating cookies and drinking juice until their parents arrived.

That is, her fathers and Judy. Mr. Fabray had been taken to a room earlier, as well. He didn't need any surgery, of course, but the hit on the back of his head had left him with a nasty concussion. And at least he wasn't heading in the same direction as Gabriel had when they rolled him in – straight to the morgue.

It had given Rachel a chill even just seeing his body bag, knowing he was in there. His death didn't quite feel permanent just yet, though she knew it was. But she preferred not to think about that. It was too much to think of at once, after everything that had happened that night.

Not only had Quinn come to her rescue, saved her life, _again_ – not only had Gabriel taken Rachel hostage _again_ – but Quinn had been about to kill herself. For Rachel. If she hadn't been so horrified, so terrified that it gave her the strength to wrangle away from Gabriel, who knew what would've happened? Quinn would be dead. Maybe Rachel, too, maybe Gabriel would have just shot her and left. Either way, Quinn preferred to die than to watch Rachel die.

It was horrifying to think of. Every time it crossed her thoughts that she might've had to see Quinn blow her own brains out – it was disturbing and she wanted to throw up. But at the same time, it was the ultimate confirmation of Quinn's love for her. It was a sick way to have it confirmed, but Rachel needed something bright to look at out of all this. Outside of the fact that this meant that Quinn wouldn't be leaving, anyway.

And aside from the fact that Quinn had proposed marriage while half-out of it from blood loss. Rachel didn't quite know what to do with that. She had turned her down _before_ Gabriel was dead, but _now_ she wanted to get married? But who knew how Quinn would feel when she got out of surgery. Maybe she wouldn't even remember asking.

Rachel couldn't help but hope she would. That she would remember and still want it. She knew they'd only been dating a short time, but after the ordeal they'd just been through, Rachel could think of nothing that would make her happier than to be wife and wife with Quinn. The woman she loved more than anything in the world. Even Broadway.

She couldn't exactly discuss that with her fathers or Judy, though, so when they came, she filled them in on what was happening and what had happened that night. She spared them all the details of Quinn's choice, summing it up with the mere fact that she got away long enough for Quinn to shoot him. They seemed frenzied enough without knowing all that horridness. She wasn't sure she would ever breathe properly again from how tightly they all had hugged her – even Judy.

She in turn tried to ask after why Mr. Fabray had been at her house, but Judy didn't seem to have any more clue than Rachel did, so she dropped the subject for the time being.

Sam, Santana, Brittany, and Artie all came shortly after that, to show their support, it seemed. Santana's worry over Quinn was palpable, to Rachel's surprise, and it might have overshadowed all the surprises of the night if it hadn't been for Shelby, Beth, and Noah strolling in early in the morning, just after the nurse came to tell them that Quinn had been moved to recovery and the surgery had gone well.

They all sat about waiting then, and everyone kept coming to pat her on the shoulder or hug her. Even Santana rubbed her arm once. Beth was fast asleep in Noah's arms, but he smiled at her now and then.

And then finally, the doctor came out to tell them Quinn was back in her room, and she was allowed one visitor at a time. Judy told her to go ahead, and everyone else smiled at her encouragingly. Rachel didn't need to be told twice. She rushed into Quinn's room, gripping a pale hand as soon as she reached her side and lifting it to press a couple of kisses to her knuckles.

"Quinn?" she prompted anxiously.

Hazel eyes fluttered open. A lazy smile crossed Quinn's pink lips. "You're so beautiful."

Rachel's heart almost burst, and she grinned and bent to kiss her warmly, as relief and happiness finally overwhelmed the pain and panic that had set in over a month ago. Gabriel was dead, and Quinn was there to stay.


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

It may have been the anesthesia and the pain meds talking, but Quinn thought Rachel's lips felt like two goose feather pillows of heaven touching her own. She was filled with another surge of happiness at the feel of them, not only because the last time she'd kissed Rachel no longer had to be the last, but because she was alive, and safe, and smiling at Quinn like she hung the stars and the moon again. Her fingers delicately traced the side of Quinn's face and she leaned into the tender touches with delight.

"How are you feeling?" Rachel prompted, and Quinn blew out a slow breath.

"Tired," she husked around a cotton-filled mouth and blinked up at Rachel's gorgeous, alive face and those bright, bright eyes.

Her lips dropped in sympathy. "Well, everyone's here to see you. Your mom, my dads, Santana, Brittany, Sam, Artie. And Noah brought Shelby and Beth back after Sam called him. She's sleeping right now, but I'm sure she'll be so excited to see you."

Quinn smiled a little at the thought of Beth, but still – "That's a _lot_ of people…"

Rachel's giggle spread her smile even wider. "I know. But we were all worried. They said we can only come in one at a time, though, so I should probably go so your mom can see you." She sighed, and Quinn grabbed her hand.

"No."

Rachel started, but quickly calmed and picked up Quinn's hand to press a couple kisses to her knuckles. "I'll be back after, I promise."

Quinn lifted her thumb to pet her bottom lip, and Rachel smiled. "Just stay a little longer. And then I'll see them. I just want you right now."

Rachel's eyes brightened and she pulled away just long enough to tug a chair up to the edge of Quinn's bed. Then she took up Quinn's hand between her own and spread a few more kisses over it, smiling up at Quinn warmly. At the moment, Quinn was disinclined to return it, however, as she noticed for the first time that her left cheek was a shade darker than the right, and it was showing signs of yellowing with a bruise. She lifted her hand to touch tenderly to the spot, and though Rachel grimaced, she leaned into it willingly.

Quinn frowned. "What happened?"

"He…hit me and knocked me out, but it's okay."

The monitor tracking her heart beats picked up against Quinn's will, and she shook her head roughly. "No, it's not."

"Quinn – please, please don't get worked up. It's okay. He's dead, he's gone," Rachel soothed, stroking her arm. "He can't hurt us anymore."

She paused. "Right. Because I killed him."

Rachel sighed and gripped her fingers tighter. "Quinn, don't. Don't beat yourself up, you had no choice, he was going to kill both of us. You _saved_ me. Again."

Quinn breathed a sigh through her nostrils, closing her eyes briefly. Rachel was right. It was self-defense, and Rachel-defense. If she hadn't shot Gabriel when she had the chance, he would've killed them instead. But now that she remembered, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling at the back of her mind, wondering if she'd had to kill him after all, or if she'd just wanted to. If maybe she could have merely injured him and taken Rachel and let the police take care of the rest.

But then she wasn't an expert marksman, she hadn't had years of training with a gun, she'd had one day at a firing range. She couldn't have been sure she'd have hit him if she'd tried to go for his legs again or even his arms. The sure target was his chest, so that was where she'd aimed, and now he was dead. A man was dead. A psychopath, but a man. Quinn had given birth to someone, and she had killed someone. Remarkably different someones – a perfect someone and a mentally unstable someone – but nonetheless.

Was it justice that she'd killed him after he'd gone after her daughter, almost killed her mother, murdered her best friend, and threatened the woman she loved? Or vengeance? And did it matter?

Normally, moral quandaries like this were fascinating to Quinn, if they weren't her own, if she read about them in a book or something. But as it was, this was hers and hers alone, and she was feeling fuzzy-headed and tired from the surgery and the pain meds and the new blood the nurse had set up to pump through her veins, to replace the blood she'd lost. And Rachel was staring at her desperately, begging her not to blame herself.

At the moment, Quinn could deny Rachel nothing, so she squeezed her hand and smiled tiredly, mustering her happiness back up and bolstering it with the fact that Rachel was alive, and everyone she loved was safe. Rachel smiled back in relief.

"I'm sorry," Quinn murmured at length, going on when Rachel's brow knit, "For leaving."

Immediately, Rachel was shaking her head. "Don't be. You were scared. You've never been scared like that before…am I right?" Quinn lowered her gaze to their hands. "So of course you didn't handle it all that well. I won't lie to you and say it didn't hurt." She ducked her head, trying to catch Quinn's eyes. "But it's over now, and you're not leaving, and you won't do that again. Right?" She smiled, almost mischievously.

Quinn couldn't help a small chuckle. "Right. I love you."

Rachel beamed. "I love you, too."

She opened her mouth again, to go on, but the door opened after a tiny knock, and Mom leaned in.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, girls, I just couldn't wait any longer."

Rachel stood, smoothing her skirt reflexively. "It's all right, I understand. It's hard not to hog her."

Quinn's mom smiled back at Rachel and slipped inside as she went to leave, but Quinn held her hand fast, wanting one more smile before she left.

"I'll be back," Rachel assured her, and Quinn leaned up to meet her kiss.

She slumped back into the pillows as Rachel left and blinked tiredly at her mother before she was wrapped in a big, tight hug and scolded mildly for running off into danger that way. Apparently being trapped as a hostage _and_ shot was enough impetus for Quinn's sister to visit her, or so her mom said. Quinn had a feeling she was rather more concerned about their father, who was in the next room over recovering from his concussion. But these were minor notes in her mother's conversation; she was mainly focused on discussing how to insert Quinn into a giant bubble.

Shelby and Beth came in after her mother finally persuaded herself to leave, and Quinn was nearly dozing off even as she assured Beth she just had a boo-boo and would be fine soon. Shelby thanked her again for saving Rachel; this time Quinn just nodded. Shelby's nose wasn't healed yet, but her bruises were mostly faded and she'd recovered from her concussion. Beth's tiny bruise was completely gone, and she was overjoyed with the news that the bad man was gone forever.

Quinn was exhausted by the time the two left, and so was Beth after her late night travels. But Quinn had yet more visitors to cycle through, so she propped herself up while Puck, Santana, Brittany, and Artie came through, one at a time, accepting hugs from each (and a high five from Artie). They didn't stay quite as long, thankfully, each of them tired from staying up half the night and more content now that they knew she was fine and that Gabriel was dead. Santana, in particular, seemed proud of Quinn for that – she was quick to steer the subject away whenever it arose.

Leroy and Hiram each came in next to hug her and thank her for saving Rachel – again – and express their own relief that she was all right, too. They were more tactful than her teenage friends and managed to avoid bringing up Gabriel's status at all.

Sam was the last to come in, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked her over and she, in turn, tried to smile up at him with heavy eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn," he said, sighing.

She frowned. "What? Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything…"

"Well, after you left, I went to find one of the cops to tell them to go after you, like you said, and…he took me to the station for giving you the gun."

Quinn suddenly felt much more awake. "What? He arrested you?"

"Took me 'into custody'," he said, rolling his eyes as he made the air quotes. "The feds showed up while they were questioning me, wondering where the hell everybody was, and they told them to let me go and get their asses out there. That's why it took so long for the cops to show up, and if I had just not told them about the gun, they would've gotten out there and maybe you wouldn't have gotten shot in the first place."

Her eyebrow quirked. "Sam. It is not your fault that the Lima PD is made up of a bunch of idiots. You didn't do anything wrong, and it turned out fine."

Sam nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"It did turn out fine, didn't it?" She swallowed. "They're not arresting you, or – "

"Nah, no. I'm just having my gun license taken away, but that doesn't matter. Guy's dead, so I don't need it anymore." He shrugged his shoulders. "And you're gonna be fine, too. Not just the leg, I mean. That one agent, Fields? He said he was gonna fix it for you so you don't get fined or something for carrying a gun without a license."

Quinn couldn't help it – she chuckled.

Sam was a contagious laugher, but he paused between to ask, "Uh, what's funny?"

"I didn't even think when I took your gun, about all the consequences and…I've been acting like an idiot. It's kind of a weird feeling," she admitted tiredly. "I've never done something and not known the risks. I was always deliberate." She yawned. "Except…for sleeping with Puck, but that was drunkenness, not stupidity."

Sam's voice was gentle when he said, "Well, you're in love. Love makes you stupid sometimes."

"I've been in love with Rachel for a long time," she mumbled.

"But you weren't with her. Now you are, and you get to be crazy about her. And you're gonna do some crazy things. Non-deliberately, sometimes." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Mm, saying love's made me crazy?" Quinn smiled lazily, trying to pull open her eyes.

"I'm saying…love's made you patient, and kind. Always protecting, trusting, hoping, persevering. Never failing."

Quinn managed to open one eye then. "You've been doing some reading, have you?"

Sam grinned at her. "A little. Those Corinthians were the smart ones, I tell you."

Quinn smiled again, dropping her eyes closed. "That was Mercedes' favorite scripture, too."

She felt his hand cover the top of her head for a moment, brushing his thumb over her hair, and then there was whispering next to her and his hand left. Instead a smaller, softer hand found hers, and Quinn tugged at it, wiggling to scoot over on the bed and patting the space next to her until she felt Rachel's warm body sliding under the sheets with her. Rachel's arms wrapped around her shoulders, and Quinn rested her head against her heart, listening to it beat as Rachel stroked her hair.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you," she heard Rachel murmur, and then a kiss was pressed to her forehead and Quinn drifted off to sleep at last. And when she dreamed, she saw Rachel in a white gown, and they danced together on a bed of roses until the sun went down.

#

The doctors let all of Quinn's family join them when she woke that afternoon – Leroy, Hiram, and her mom all squeezed in with Beth and Shelby and Puck. It was a strange group and it was difficult for them all to fit, but Hiram perched on Leroy's lap on the couch, Shelby next to them. Mom sat in the hospital chair next to the bed, and Puck stood with Beth in his arms nearby, once Beth proved a little too young to understand when and where Quinn was hurting and could no longer sit on her lap next to Rachel on the bed.

They watched cartoons and all worked to entertain Beth until it was time for her nap, and Shelby took her back to the hotel. Puck left then, too, leaving Quinn with a kiss on the head, and then Leroy went to get them all dinner. It was a relaxing evening with all of them, watching TV and snuggling with Rachel while they ate and laughed – her mother more restrainedly than the rest of them, of course, with her neck still aching, but Quinn could tell from the sparkle in her eye that she was enjoying herself.

Quinn drifted off to sleep again in the midst of a rerun of The Big Bang Theory, and when she woke, it was dark in the room and her mother, Leroy, and Hiram were gone. Rachel was still pressed comfortably against her side, and her brow furrowed, wondering at what had woken her up – until she spied a shadow to her right and jumped, almost leaping over top of Rachel and scrambling for some kind of weapon, but it was her father's voice that came out of the dark.

"Quinn – it's all right, it's me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He held out a calming hand, stepping forward and leaning on his IV drip. "I just wanted to see that you were all right."

Quinn lowered herself back into the mattress gradually, blinking up at him until her eyes adjusted to the dim light from the machinery and from the windows and she could make out his face.

"They wouldn't let me during the day, so I…" He gestured about, clearing his throat as Quinn looked up at him mutely.

"Why were you at Rachel's house?" she prompted as soon as he was silent.

It had been bugging her, she realized, even if only at the back of her mind, ever since she found him on the floor there. He had no reason to go there that she could see, unless he'd left something there when they stayed, but then he should've realized and gone sooner, shouldn't he? He didn't have as many things to pack as them, only what he had brought, so a missing item was far more glaring. Besides, why wouldn't he just tell them where he was going if that was the case?

But of all her suspicions, his answer was probably the least expected.

"I was hoping to convince her to come and say goodbye to you before we left." He sighed. "You had been looking for her all day, waiting for her. And I thought, perhaps, it might help you to see her one more time."

Quinn stared up at him, unable to see his eyes, to read the level of sincerity there. "I'm not leaving her again," she said slowly, testing.

"I know." He cleared his throat. "I won't say that I am comfortable or happy with it, but. I _can_ see that she makes you very happy, and that is what I want for you. So I will not get in the way of your relationship. I'll even…get used to it. Besides, if you are going to be…"

Quinn waited, prodding after a moment, "Gay?"

He nodded. "Then…I suppose I prefer for you to be with…Rachel than some other girl… Like that Santana," he added sourly.

She almost – almost – allowed herself a smirk. "Don't think you have to worry about that."

"I know. It's none of my business, but I can't help wanting you to be with someone worthy of you." He paused. "I want you to know that you are a remarkable young woman. And I am very proud to have you as a daughter."

Quinn swallowed thickly, staring at his silhouette and letting out a slow breath.

"I know that doesn't mean anything to you anymore – "

"It means something," she admitted. She bit her lip. "Maybe not what it used to, but something."

"Something," he said gently, and she recognized the smile in his voice. "When they release me and you and your mother are fully healed, I'll be going back to Colorado. But I'd like to stay in touch, somehow. Even if it's just a text once a month…I'd like to hear from you."

She eyed him. "And you won't mind hearing about my girlfriend?"

He paused, but shook his head. "Or about my…beautiful granddaughter."

Quinn nodded her chin. "Okay."

He cleared his throat and she could tell he was smiling again when he said, "Okay. I am…trying, Quinn."

She nipped her bottom lip again. "I know you are now."

"All right. I'll let you get some sleep." He wandered toward the door, pausing there. "Good night, Quinn."

"Good night. Dad." She cleared her throat, looking away from his smile and when he was gone, she nuzzled back up to Rachel with a sigh, smirking as she tickled her chin a bit with a fingertip and mumbled, "Rachel."

Her nose wrinkled and she smiled despite herself. "Quinnnnnn."

"Faker," Quinn teased, kissing her nose.

Rachel's big brown eyes fluttered open. "It's not my fault you practically jumped on me. Which you shouldn't have done, by the way, you could have popped your stitches."

Quinn just smiled at her.

"It was very nice of you to hear him out," she said after a moment, lips curling upward.

"Well, he was being nice, for once. And not condescending. Well, except about the Santana part."

"To be fair, I would be condescending if you went out with Santana, too." Rachel nodded sagely, and Quinn chuckled. "At least he seems to be accepting the inevitable."

"Hm, what's the inevitable?" She smiled crookedly, taking one of Rachel's hands to press a few kisses to.

"That we're meant for each other," Rachel answered cheekily. She sobered only a moment later. "Speaking of which…do you remember what you asked me? Before the cops and the FBI came in before?"

Quinn paused, petting her thumb over Rachel's. "I do."

"Was that just…blood loss and adrenaline, or…did you mean it?" Rachel tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

She sighed, gathering herself. "I…meant it, at the time, but…"

"But now you don't."

"It's…we can't get married, Rachel." She shrugged.

"Why not?"

"The same reasons you and Finn couldn't get married," she said simply, wriggling her other hand free to stroke Rachel's hair.

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Because…we're not soulmates after all, because we'd just be doing it out of fear, because I won't follow my dreams of Broadway and I'll just be Mrs. Finn Hudson forever, because you're…going to get in a car crash again – because if you do, I swear on every deity, Quinn Fabray – "

Quinn chuckled, taking the finger pointing in her face and kissing it. "No, of course not. None of that. Because we're too young and immature to handle a commitment like that."

Rachel frowned. "You're probably the most mature person I know, and I'm committed to you. Are you committed to me?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "But we're young…we haven't even gone to college; there are going to be experiences there that might change us forever. Who knows where we'll be in ten, five, even two years, or by Christmas? And besides all that – " she squeezed Rachel's hand as her mouth opened to refute " – we have only been dating for a month."

"And? We've made love, we've confessed our love, we've been practically living together some of the time – which has gone very well, by the way. And we've known each other for years, it's not like we met at a coffee shop a month ago and want to get married now," she said pointedly.

"I know, but do you know how many marriages from high school last? There's a reason they don't."

Rachel's brow knit. "May I point out that we are not in high school anymore? And is that what this really is to you? Are you really looking at this as some short-term high school romance?"

"No, Rachel…I'm just trying to be realistic," Quinn soothed. "We're going to be going to different colleges soon, what if you meet someone else and you're trapped in some long distance marriage?"

"What if _you_ meet someone else and you're trapped in some long distance marriage?" Rachel shot back, and Quinn scowled – as if she'd be trapped, as if she'd ever find someone better than Rachel. And Rachel smiled. "Do you see what I'm saying?"

Quinn sighed, biting on her lip. "I still don't know. It's so soon and…"

Rachel shuffled further down in bed, taking Quinn's hand and pressing their fingertips together. "Okay. Then I suggest we wait until the end of August. That's three months we'll have been together, plenty of time to realize that you totally want this to happen, _and_ we could have our honeymoon in New York." She grinned.

Quinn tried not to smirk, she really did. "End of August, huh? Right before we go to separate schools. Long distance is hard enough without adding a brand new marriage to it."

"Quinn, we've been held hostage, survived an explosion, and a crazy man came to my house, shot you, and then tried to make you kill yourself while holding me at gunpoint. If we can survive all of that, how hard can a long distance marriage be?" Rachel raised both eyebrows. "I believe we can do anything together. Besides, it's not even that long distance, just two hours by train." She beamed.

Quinn smiled back at her, scanning her beautiful face. "Okay. Okay, end of August. We'll see if you still want to do it."

"We'll see if you realize you do," Rachel answered playfully, pecking her lips, and they fell asleep exchanging gentle kisses.

#

Leroy and Hiram brought bagels for everyone the next morning, before they had to head off to work. They were rapidly running out of sick time, though some of it had been forgiven under the circumstances, but while her mom had retained her job after all, she was being given more time due to her own injuries and her daughter's hospitalization. So the three of them occupied themselves for the day with TV shows and the newspaper one of the nurses brought in. Shelby brought Beth midmorning and stayed until it was time for her nap again, and then in the afternoon, the two FBI agents knocked and stepped into Quinn's room.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Agent Lewis greeted as Mom stood.

"You're looking better than when we last saw you," Agent Fields noted, nodding to Quinn.

She smiled a bit. "Feeling better, too. What's going on?"

"We wanted to personally deliver some information to you. Most of it will be on the news soon enough, but since you're the victims in this case…"

"You will not be brought up on charges over the issue of carrying a weapon while unlicensed," Lewis said. "However, there may be a small trial over the murder of Joel Thatcher – "

"I'm sorry," Rachel cut in, frowning. "Joel Thatcher?"

"Gabriel's real name," Fields explained. "And he's got a record. He was born here in Lima, but when he was ten, he was placed in a mental health facility after a series of animal murders and then trying to strangle a fellow classmate. He was released and declared functioning at eighteen and did some time in jail for some minor crimes after he moved to Cleveland. All of his guns we found were acquired illegally and apparently he's tried to start radical groups before with church members, lobbyists, that sort of thing, but never with this kind of success."

"And you're going to put Quinn on trial for killing him?" Rachel was aghast, and Quinn rubbed her side.

"_If_ there's a trial," Fields assured them, "it'll be a short one. Self-defense is clearly the case here, and Lewis and I would testify to it."

Lewis nodded next to him. "We'll also be recommending that the Lima Police Department be investigated thoroughly when we leave."

They all let out a collective breath, and Rachel leaned her head against Quinn's.

"There is one more thing on a less professional note," Fields said, and when Quinn gestured for him to go on, he took a breath and dug a card from his pocket. "I'd like to recommend one of our former bureau therapists to you."

Mom frowned. "Why would Quinn need a therapist?"

Fields paused, glancing between them, and handed over the card.

Quinn just nodded as she took it, murmuring, "Because I killed a man."

Fields looked at her sympathetically before he stepped back to Lewis' side. "Well, we'll let you get some more rest and we'll be back if anything new comes up."

Quinn waved briefly, flipping the card in her hand, and smiled up at Rachel quietly when she stroked her hair, resting her head back down on her chest. The storm had ended, but it was still raining – though when she breathed in Rachel's strawberry smell and listened to her heartbeat, it felt like sunshine.


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

_Two weeks later…_

Rachel hadn't gotten a day to herself for two weeks, and it had been pure bliss. She and Quinn spent every moment together, just like before Quinn panicked over Gabriel – Joel – and fled from her side. Rachel's fathers brought her clothes to change into while she was staying with Quinn at the hospital, and when they went home, it was home to Quinn's bed, where they spent the nights making up for lost time, despite Rachel's worries about Quinn's leg.

During the days, they'd do whatever they liked, be it meeting up with glee club friends, or spending time with either Judy or Rachel's dads or both, or going swimming or biking, or just lying around watching movies – though they had to fit it all in around Quinn's physical therapy sessions. She wouldn't have to go for as long as she had had to for her compressed spine, but given her history, the doctor recommended Quinn attend a few more sessions, and with Rachel and Judy's persuasion, Quinn agreed. And this time, Rachel went along with her to help out, so it only served as more time together, more time to touch and flirt.

Quinn's, well…emotional therapy sessions were a different story. While Rachel was allowed to come along to the building, she couldn't sit in the room, and the very idea of sitting out in the lobby, waiting while Quinn was possibly in great emotional turmoil in the next room, proved to be a bit too much for Rachel. So with Quinn's approval, Rachel had stayed home to practice vocals until she got back.

It didn't serve to distract her as well as Rachel had hoped, but she did manage to select some songs for her new NYADA audition and practice them a few times through before Quinn arrived home. And when she did, it took everything in her not to tackle Quinn with both legs and arms. Instead, Rachel settled for several kisses and a tight hug as she drew Quinn back into the house with her.

"How was your first session? Dr. Kent didn't upset you, did she?" Rachel questioned between kisses, stroking Quinn's chest. "You don't look like you've been crying or anything – "

Quinn chuckled and cut her off with a soft kiss. "I'm okay. It was…it was okay."

Rachel smiled, clutching Quinn's hands to her chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, we didn't…really talk about anything in depth yet, but. It was good."

Rachel kissed each of her knuckles. "Good. I'm so glad."

Quinn smiled at her. "I love you so much," she murmured.

Rachel grinned. "I love you, too. Definitely sending you to more sessions if this is what I get," she added mischievously, and Quinn chuckled, but her response was cut off by a knock on the door.

They exchanged furrowed brows before Quinn limped over to swing it open, and Rachel gaped at the sight of Kurt – and Blaine – standing outside, looking fresh and bright-eyed. So unlike the last time she'd seen him, the broken pale boy in a hospital bed. The _angry_ pale, sickly boy in a hospital bed, and now he actually pulled up a smile as he peeked in at Quinn and Rachel at her arm and asked, "Can we come in?"

Quinn glanced to Rachel for confirmation before she gestured the two inside, pulling the door open wider.

Rachel couldn't contain herself any longer when they all arrived in the living room. "What are you guys doing here? We haven't seen hide nor hair of either of you in weeks. Or Finn, for that matter, has everything been okay?"

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's chest from behind as they exchanged a loving smile, and Rachel only grew more curious.

"Actually, it's been…a lot better," Kurt said at last. "We decided to go on the honeymoon we'd planned in New York."

Rachel's eyelashes fluttered, a mixture of jealousy and uncertainty turning in her gut. "Oh."

"Yeah, we decided we needed some time away, alone together," Kurt continued, swaying back into Blaine. "And Finn decided to drown in video games while we were gone, I guess." He chuckled.

Rachel tilted her head back toward Quinn, who smiled lightly and set a hand on the small of her back. "Well, that's…great. How was it?"

"Great." Kurt grinned.

"Nice," Blaine agreed, smiling back at him.

"We talked some things over and…" Kurt cleared his throat, sobering as he looked back to Rachel. "I still don't agree with what you all did. But I do understand now. I'm really sorry for reacting the way I did…and for shutting you out of my life. And the things I said to you; they were uncalled for. You're my best friend, Rachel. The only one I have left. I don't want to lose you."

Rachel glanced to Quinn once again, a warmth filling the middle of her chest. Quinn smiled at her, and so she turned and rushed forward to give Kurt a full, tight hug. He wrapped her up close in turn, giving her a firm squeeze with a grunt.

"You could never lose me, you're my best friend, too!" she cheered brightly, smiling against his chest. "I'm so sorry for not telling you, I'm so sorry – "

"It's all behind us now." Kurt gripped her by the shoulders, smiling. "I am sorry we didn't know about all the stuff that happened with that…maniac, if Finn had called or texted us before we got back, we would've come immediately, I can't believe he took you hostage _again_."

"No, I'm glad he didn't, you needed that time away with your husband, you didn't need to deal with all this stuff anymore."

"Yeah, but you needed me to be here and I let you down and – "

Quinn cleared her throat. "These two have a lot to catch up on, and if this is anything to go by, it may take a while. Care for a drink, Blaine? Coffee, tea?"

He smiled, rubbed Kurt's shoulder as he went to follow her toward the kitchen. "I'd love some coffee."

Rachel tugged on Quinn's wrist to steal one more kiss before she turned her attention back to Kurt, bouncing to sit on the couch cushions with him. He was smirking at her dreamy smile.

"So, you two are still a thing, obviously. How's that going?"

Rachel sighed contentedly. "Amazing. Kurt, you have no idea what she's really like underneath all the pain and heartache that's made her seem so tough and so cold. She's just…she's so warm and so good to me, and God, she's the most romantic person, I can't even tell you – she set up a Funny Girl _premiere night_ for me, with Barbra Streisand's dress and a popcorn machine and she even had the little tickets printed out, and – I just. I love her so much."

Kurt was smiling at her, shaking his head in something akin to amazement. "I guess she's perfect for you, after all."

"She really is. I never understood before, when you'd say that you and Blaine just fit together? I mean, not to trod on Finn or anything, but…we always had to work hard to find things that we both had in common or wanted to do together, other than glee or, well, making out." Kurt chuckled, and Rachel blushed. "But even then, we'd butt heads – both literally and figuratively sometimes…" She cleared her throat. "And I don't know, I'm not explaining this well, am I? It's just that with Quinn, everything is…wonderful. It's never hard to be together – it's only hard to _not_ be together. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course. When I was shutting Blaine out for the lie, I'd never been more miserable. But as soon as I let him back in… Everything felt ten times better, even before we went to New York."

"Exactly." Rachel sighed, smiling as she petted the couch cushion between them. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Secrets are my life, tell me." Kurt grinned.

Rachel almost squirmed with delight. "Quinn and I are thinking about getting married!" She squealed a little, unable to contain herself.

Kurt's grin promptly dropped. "What? You've only been together for like a month and a half, right?"

"Right, but we've known each other for a lot longer, so…" She shrugged.

"You've only been together for a month and a half," Kurt repeated, as if to a child.

"It's not like we're planning on marrying _tomorrow_, we were thinking the end of August. Well, if Quinn comes around by then."

"Right before you go to New York and she goes to Connecticut. So you can have a long distance marriage immediately afterward with the girl you've only been with for three months," he said flatly.

Rachel frowned. "Hey. You're going to be gone for a year before Blaine gets to join you in New York, and you two _just_ got married, too!"

"Yeah, but we've already been together a year and we'll have been married all summer before we have to go our separate ways."

"Right. After you've spent most of this summer not talking to him. And I'm sorry, but since when is a year the magical amount of time before you can get married?"

"It's better than a month and a half," Kurt growled. "Or even three. Besides that, you were _just_ engaged to Finn a few months ago, you're going to leap into another marriage just like that?" Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but he waved a hand. "Wait. Is this about that whole thing that Quinn didn't believe you were with her to stay, and…you're just trying to prove – "

"It's not about proving anything, Kurt!" Rachel pouted despite herself. "Me and Quinn, we're past all that. It's not about Finn, it's not about anything but me and her and how much we love each other. I thought you, of all people, would understand that. Unless you were just getting married to Blaine to prove something?"

Kurt's jaw dropped. "No! We got married because, because we love each other and we want to spend the rest of our lives together and we didn't see any point in waiting to start that."

"And neither do I with Quinn. We love each other."

Kurt sighed. "Okay. Look. Rachel, I don't want to fight with you."

"Then don't."

"But this is what best friends are for. To tell you when you're doing something crazy, and marrying Quinn, even at the end of August, would be crazy."

Rachel pursed her lips with a frown. She'd thought, if anyone would understand, it would be Kurt. Obviously her fathers wouldn't; they adored Quinn, but they'd been palpably relieved when her marriage to Finn fell through. So even if they pretended to approve again, it wasn't likely they would truly understand. Finn definitely wouldn't, friend or not. But Kurt had married Blaine before he went off to pursue NYADA and only a year together after knowing each other two years. She and Quinn had known each other for four years, and so what if they weren't exactly friends through all of that time? They were together now.

And what did time matter? Whether they got married tomorrow or in another month and a half or a year or ten, the outcome would be no different. Rachel and Quinn would be together, through thick and thin. So ultimately, it didn't matter to Rachel whether or not they married at the end of August, because they would stay together either way. And someday, they _would_ be married.

But Kurt didn't understand that. Or maybe he did, for him and Blaine, but couldn't apply it to her and Quinn. Couldn't see that the love they shared was equal, or greater, and that it would last, marriage or no marriage. Wedding now or wedding later.

"I guess you're right," Rachel puffed out at length, picking up a pinched smile to offer Kurt.

Kurt seemed to relax. "Thank you for hearing me out."

"Of course. I will always value your opinion, you know that. You're my best friend. Now tell me more about your honeymoon!"

Rachel bounced next to him, and Kurt grinned as he launched into his long, romantic tale set in New York City.

#

By the time Kurt and Blaine left, Judy had gotten home from work, and after a short dinner and an evening in front of the TV again, they all retreated to bed – Judy to keep working, and Quinn and Rachel to mostly quietly tussle underneath the covers together. It was amazing as always, but Rachel's conversation with Kurt still weighed heavy on her mind, so after pressing a few soft kisses to the forming scar on Quinn's thigh, she moved up to nestle against the pillows next to Quinn and sighed, running a hand through her hair.

Quinn's fingertips were almost instantly stroking up and down her spine, soothing. "What's wrong? You've been quiet since Kurt was here."

Rachel closed her eyes as soft lips touched the back of her neck. "Well, I made the mistake of telling him we were thinking about getting married at the end of August."

"Mm," Quinn hummed, tracing Rachel's shoulder blades. "And it didn't go well."

"Well. He just thinks the same thing you do. That we haven't been together long enough, that it's stupid to get married and then immediately go long distance, that I'm just trying to prove something with a wedding," Rachel grumbled against the pillow, rolling fully onto her stomach when Quinn kneaded into her back.

"Prove something?" Quinn echoed, puzzled.

"I guess he thinks I'm trying to prove to you, or Finn or maybe even him that I want you and not Finn anymore." She shrugged lightly. "He doesn't understand…I just want to marry you because…I love you and we're going to someday anyway. Or maybe not. Maybe we'll decide we don't need to get married, because apparently getting married means you're trying to prove something, it can't just be because you love that person and you want to be with them forever and know you'll be together forever and after a car crash and a hostage situation where you thought they were killed and then almost dying again you just don't see the point in wasting any time because – "

"Then let's not tell anyone."

Rachel paused, drawing in a deep breath before she turned to her side to glance back at Quinn. "What?"

She smiled softly at her. "Let's not tell anyone. We already know that Kurt's not going to be happy about it. I know without a doubt that Santana won't be. And my parents would freak out, even though my mom loves you and he even seems to like you…"

"My dads love you, too, but they'd…yeah, they wouldn't be happy, either," she agreed, biting her lip.

"So we won't tell anyone. We'll just…get married." Quinn took Rachel's hand, kissing her knuckles. "For us."

Rachel couldn't help a small grin. "We need witnesses for it to be legal."

"So we'll get someone who won't argue." Quinn shrugged, petting her thumb. "And who won't tell. It'll just be our private little…commitment ceremony. And when in a few years, our friends and family are ready for us to get married, we'll have a big, extravagant ceremony and flaunt our love in their faces."

Rachel giggled, tilting her head up for another light kiss. "But I thought you thought it was too soon."

"I do. But after everything that's happened…you're right. We shouldn't waste the time we have. Gabriel…Joel – he may be gone, but we have to take…what we can from what he did to us, and I love you. I want to make you as happy as I can, and if what you want is to get married…then let's do it." Quinn smiled.

Rachel narrowed her eyes, biting her tongue to keep from beaming. "Did your new therapist tell you that?"

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "She told me to try to think about what good might've come from it, not just the bad. I came up with the rest on my own." She winked.

Rachel giggled, squirming onto her back to loop her arms around Quinn's neck. "You're wonderful. But. I only want to get married if you want to marry me, so – "

"Oh, I want to marry you, Rachel Berry," Quinn growled playfully, tickling her side lightly.

Rachel almost squeaked, squirming. "Oh, you do, do you?"

She grinned cheekily. "Uh huh, I do."

"Prove it then." Her eyebrows rose challengingly.

"How would you like it proven?"

"Propose to me. And I'll think about it."

Quinn's eyebrows popped up for a moment, and she adjusted over top of Rachel, clearing her throat a couple times. Rachel couldn't erase her grin if she tried, nipping her own bottom lip to curb it just a little and occupying herself with a curly lock of Quinn's hair, twisting it about her finger.

"'Would you be more convinced if I fell to my knees?'" Quinn's eyebrow quirked, and Rachel's grin nearly split her in half. "'Forgive me for startling you with the impetuosity of my sentiments, my dear Rachel. I mean, my dear Miss Berry. But it cannot have escaped your notice that for some time past the friendship I have felt for you has ripened into a deeper feeling. A feeling more beautiful, more pure, more sacred. Dare I name it? Can it be love?'"

Rachel bit onto her lip more roughly, her cheeks flushed bright scarlet – no pun intended – as she peered up at Quinn with heavy breaths. "How do you even remember all that?"

"It turns you on, of course I remember it," Quinn purred, and Rachel felt a shudder down her spine.

"While I won't deny there's a certain…appeal to you talking like that…propose to me in your own words?" Rachel stroked her eyebrow with her thumb. "Please?"

Quinn smiled gently and adjusted a bit, moving onto her elbows to look Rachel properly in the eye. "I love you, Rachel. Will you marry me?"

Rachel's heart fluttered and a beam spread across her lips. "Yes. Yes, I will marry you."

Quinn kissed her, warm and full, and Rachel melted into it, a bliss settling over her like never before – as a matter of fact, she had never felt so in love as in that moment, and that was saying something for how crazy she was about Quinn. She wanted this now and forever, just the two of them always, and she tried as well as she could to express that through the touch of her mouth and her hands as they stroked down Quinn's back and circled that gardenia tattoo and hugged Quinn closer to her. She could never get close enough.

Quinn gently drew open her mouth, shifting herself on top to wedge her uninjured thigh between Rachel's legs and to allow a hand to palm Rachel's breast, kneading softly. Rachel always felt like wet clay under her touch – not very sexy under normal circumstances, she knew, save for that one scene in Ghost, but Quinn molded her body that way all the same, playing with her, shaping her. She could simply touch a fingertip to a point on Rachel's skin and she would arch and moan just the way Quinn seemed to want; or she could press their bodies together, change everything, and Rachel bended easily and willfully to her. And it all heightened and built as Quinn did her little touches and details, and big sweeping changes, until Rachel was a masterpiece.

Everything was utter heaven. The littlest touch to Rachel's nipple with just the tip of Quinn's thumb, so small it almost seemed by accident – but nothing was ever by accident with Quinn – sent her moaning, biting on her lip to keep it muffled. Quinn's room wasn't as well soundproofed as Rachel's, after all, and while it was an annoyance to remember when she just wanted to scream, it also felt good to be ravished in Quinn's bed, to have Quinn on top of her, grinding her thigh against Rachel's wetness and sucking her neck and nipples, hands coasting in places Rachel never thought would feel as good as it did when Quinn did it. In Quinn Fabray's bed. Under Quinn Fabray.

Rachel knew in those moments that everything had been worth it. All the fear, all the heartache, it was worth it if she could just have Quinn forever. If it meant that she'd realized who the most important person in her life was, her soulmate, and she could go on with that person without fear, because Quinn made her feel fearless. She made her feel free.

She cupped Quinn's glowing face after two fingers slid effortlessly into her, lifting her hips into the first thrust with a low moan. "Quinn?"

"Mm?" Quinn slowed herself, focusing her eyes on Rachel's and stroking her hair back.

"Would you change anything?" Rachel rasped, hooking her legs about Quinn's hips and brushing her thumbs against her cheekbones.

Quinn stared at her for a moment, delving her fingers even deeper when she murmured, "Never."

Rachel let out a high-pitched moan before she managed to ask, "You love me?"

"Always," Quinn husked, kissing the corner of her mouth and touching the spot inside Rachel that had made her scream the first time they'd found it.

Rachel bit down on her lip so hard she nearly drew blood to keep from doing so now. "You want me?"

"_Yes_," she growled, nipping a bit on Rachel's jaw and flicking her clit with her thumb.

Rachel clenched her eyes shut and burrowed her fingers up into Quinn's hair. "For how long?"

"Forever," Quinn breathed into her mouth, taking her lips, pressing her g-spot and clit all at once, and Rachel came harder and longer than she'd ever thought possible.

#

When they'd grown too tired to keep on touching each other and rolling about, Quinn settled back with Rachel under the sheets, holding her about her shoulders while they linked hands together and dozed, fingers occasionally petting or shifting. Quinn steadily breathed in Rachel's strawberry hair. And she felt content for the first time in a long while.

There was still a lot to deal with, she knew. Her therapy was nowhere near over, because despite her happiness with Rachel, at the back of her mind, Quinn thought about Gabriel – Joel – and the light fading from his blue eyes after she shot him over and over and over again. Sometimes she dreamed about it, or about a little blue-eyed boy – sometimes he was in the midst of a broken home, watching his father beat his mom. Or sometimes he was watching someone die, or being beaten himself. And sometimes he was just a happy kid who one day killed the neighbor's cat.

But more often Quinn dreamed of Rachel in a white gown, or Beth playing in a field of daisies. Or Mercedes singing her heart out among fluffy clouds.

And still, there was her father, who was trying. Quinn wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to accept him back fully, ever fully forgive him – if not for herself, for Beth. As a mother. But he was trying and she couldn't deny him entirely when she, too, had made grievous mistakes, had been a worse person than she was now.

And there were the deaths of those they had lost. Sam was doing worse again after Gabriel was gone. With no one to take his anger out on anymore, no one to direct his focus toward, he was forced to realize that Mercedes was truly gone. Quinn would have to be there for him as much as she could, while she nursed her own sad heart. She would always miss Mercedes.

But at the end of all that was Quinn's light at the end of the tunnel. Rachel. Her friend, her best friend, her girlfriend, her lover, her fiancé, her soon-to-be wife, her everything. Being a hostage, being shot at, being ultimately shot – it was all worth it to have the woman in her arms.

Quinn adjusted the cross around Rachel's neck and kissed the top of her head, settling down comfortably against the pillows as she murmured against Rachel's ear, "I love you."


	35. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_One month and two weeks later…_

Today was the day. Quinn had scheduled their appointment in the courthouse two weeks ago, they had separately gone out to buy dresses and rings for each other – though the rings weren't as flashy as Rachel hoped they would be when they got "officially" married in front of all their families and friends. Instead they decided to go for each other's birthstones set in silver bands, and though the turquoise wasn't a very pretty stone in Rachel's opinion, she was certain Quinn would only select the best. She in turn made sure to purchase the most vibrant sardonyx she could find.

This was all accomplished with ease, and since they were both eighteen, the marriage would be no problem without their parents. Deciding on who to bring as witnesses was much more difficult and required many lengthy discussions. Quinn wanted to ask Sam as hers, but feared a wedding would be too much for him after all he'd lost with Mercedes. Rachel thought of asking Tina and Mike, or even Artie, but it didn't seem right. They weren't as close; they didn't care about her and Quinn as much as the people who couldn't come because they cared perhaps too much.

Ultimately, they settled on a unique solution. They couldn't have their entire family, so they approached their awkward little family. Quinn went to Noah, and Rachel approached Shelby. The two were more than happy to do it, they were guaranteed not to tell anyone, and they were family, of sorts.

And Rachel kind of liked having her mother helping her get ready for the big day. She and Quinn had decided to follow the tradition of spending the night away from one another and not seeing each other until the wedding was held, so Rachel had invited Shelby to the Berry house to help her fix up her hair and her makeup and trundle her up in her dress. Beth sat on the floor giggling and playing with Rachel's little stuffed lamb and a Barbie doll while Shelby painted Rachel's lips bright red.

It was all very nice. Shelby was patient and helpful and, above all, knew she had no room to question Rachel's decision. She did ask, once, if Rachel was sure. Rachel said yes. And Shelby nodded and slid another barrette into Rachel's hair.

Rachel had gone very simple, very elegant for her wedding with Finn, but now she wanted waves and curls to go along with her bun. She wanted to look gorgeous for Quinn, the way Quinn always looked gorgeous for her. She couldn't help but think about the other day she'd thought she'd been getting married, how nervous she had been, how anxious to see Quinn's face and know if she was doing the right thing. How could she not have known even then how very important Quinn Fabray was to her?

It didn't matter, she decided. What mattered was that she was happy. Happier than she'd ever been, and she was so ready to go to the courthouse and see Quinn and say 'I do' and kiss her and make love all night in the hotel suite Quinn had booked for them. And then they'd go off to NYADA and Yale and begin their college and married lives together. Rachel simply couldn't wait. Shelby had to tell her to hold still more than once as a result of her excitement.

When it was finally time, Shelby drove and Rachel sat twisting her bouquet of gardenias in her lap while Beth sang made-up words along with a CD in the stereo, and then the three of them rushed into courthouse to meet Noah where he was waiting outside a door, adjusting his tie.

"Whoa." He grinned, dipping to kiss Rachel's cheek. "You look good enough to eat. And you!" He swept up Beth in the air, holding her high. "You will have to be sacrificed to the tickle monster."

Beth squealed already and Rachel smiled with Shelby. But she was a bit too impatient still for Kodak moments, and she tugged at Noah's suit jacket.

"Is she in there? Are they ready?"

Noah nodded, lowering Beth to his chest. "Yeah, yeah. Let me go first with the flower girl here, then, uh, Shelby, then you."

Rachel blew out a breath of relief as he finally pushed open the doors and went inside, tossing some sparse petals with Beth. She adjusted her bouquet before her, smiling to Shelby when she paused to squeeze her shoulder before she went ahead, and then Rachel stepped forward, tugging the door shut behind her out of habit.

And once Noah and Beth stood to the side, and Shelby to the other, Rachel beamed at the sight of Quinn Fabray waiting next to a magistrate in a simple white dress, her brilliant blonde hair scooped up off of her long neck in a neat bun, a bright smile on her face and love in her beautiful eyes. Rachel could hardly breathe; she could only walk forward, taking it one step at a time so she didn't wobble over in the midst of one of the most romantic moments of her life, and each step closer made her feel lighter and lighter, until she was walking on clouds.

Rachel stopped in front of Quinn, unable to wipe the blissful smile off of her face, particularly as Quinn gently took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

The magistrate cleared his throat. "The two of you have requested we recite these vows, so, here we begin." He lifted his glasses to the bridge of his nose. "Lucy Quinn Fabray and Rachel Barbra Berry, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

Quinn's voice was a mere murmur when she said, "I have."

Rachel smiled warmly. "I have."

"Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent."

Quinn adjusted her hand more firmly around Rachel's, sweeping her thumb up and down the back of her hand. "I, Lucy Quinn Fabray, take you, Rachel, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

Rachel bit on her bottom lip to contain her grin before she burst out, "I, Rachel Barbra Berry, take you, Quinn, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

"Rings?" the magistrate requested.

Quinn winked down at Rachel and she felt herself flushing even as she turned to Shelby to exchange her bouquet for the ring. When they both turned about with a ring in hand, they blushed and chuckled, glancing to the magistrate, who nodded for Quinn to approach first. She smiled as she stepped forward, delicately taking Rachel's hand in hers again.

"With this ring, you are made holy to me, for I love you as my soul. You are now my wife," Quinn murmured to her, and Rachel's heart pounded in her ears with every word, and she smiled as she looked down at the pretty turquoise ring on her finger.

Someone cleared their throat again when she was staring at it a bit too long, and Rachel hurried to take Quinn's hand in turn.

"With this ring, you are made holy to me, for I love you as my soul. You are now _my_ wife," she returned, beaming up at her.

Quinn's eyes sparkled brightly. Rachel had never seen anything more beautiful, and she wanted to just jump up and kiss her right then and there – but the magistrate spoke before she could.

"With the power vested in me by the state of Ohio, you are now wife and wife. You may kiss." He lowered the paper they had given him, along with his glasses.

Rachel bit her lip shyly, despite the fact that they'd done this hundreds of times – maybe almost thousands by now, and Quinn shifted forward to dip down, cupping Rachel's face in such a way that she felt like the most precious commodity in the world. She breathed out against those soft lips, the sweetest touch of them, eyes fluttering, toes curling, and heart thudding powerfully against her ribcage.

Shelby and Noah and Beth were clapping wildly, or so Rachel realized once Quinn drew back, and she grinned, cheeks turning bright red despite herself.

"I love you," she whispered, and Quinn stroked the loose strands of her hair back.

"I know. I love you, too."

The magistrate called their attention shortly, leading them all over to sign the marriage license. Noah hugged the both of them afterward, wishing them both a lifetime of happiness and a lifetime of sex, of course. Rachel didn't see any problem with either one of those for her and Quinn, so for once, she didn't scold him. Shelby shook hands with Quinn and hugged Rachel, and for a moment, it wasn't as awkward as it usually was. Quinn swung Beth in the air and kissed her several times, giving her a couple of raspberries before she handed her off to Shelby, and then Quinn took Rachel's hand again and they went out to the waiting limo, and they were finally alone.

Quinn kissed her warmly. "Are you happy?"

"Happier than I've ever been," Rachel murmured against her lips, smiling. "I can't wait to start our life together. I can't wait to get married again." She grinned.

"Once wasn't enough, huh?" Quinn teased, tracing her fingertips up the line of Rachel's neck.

"I'm not sure if twice is going to be enough. I want to marry you every day." She leaned up into Quinn's lips again, muffling her chuckle.

"I think that's why it's called a marriage," she said once they broke apart, winking.

Rachel stroked down the v-line of Quinn's dress and breathed out, "Well then, what do you have planned for our first night of marriage?"

"How do you feel about bubble baths – " Quinn kissed her forehead " – champagne – " her nose " – strawberries – " her cheeks " – massages – " her neck " – candles – "

Rachel hummed and giggled, arching into the attention and dropping her head back. "How long does this list go on?"

"Long enough to reach you where it counts," Quinn husked, and Rachel gripped onto her shoulders tightly.

"God, I'm going to love being married to you, aren't I?"

Quinn lifted her head to grin at her. "You better. You're stuck with me now."

Rachel stroked up her neck and along her shoulders. "Good. I don't ever want to be stuck without you again."

"Never," Quinn assured, shaking her head.

Rachel beamed. "I love you, Lucy Quinn Fabray."

"I love you, too, wife," she purred teasingly, tugging Rachel closer as she dipped into her neck again, and Rachel closed her eyes with delight, hugging Quinn around her shoulders.

Nothing could ever be more perfect than this.


End file.
